Infatuation
by l0onyl0opylupin
Summary: Mello definitely feels SOMETHING for L, but he refuses to see that it's not quite love. LxMello with some MattxMello.
1. Chapter 1

Mello sighed as deeply and dramatically as he possibly could, then looked at Matt hopefully.

No response.

"Mahahaaat!"

Still no response. There was no legitimate reason, as far as Mello could see, for Matt to completely ignore him in favour of watching some little fucking mouse jump over…hedges and things, or whatever one does in whichever game he had at the time.

"Pay attention to meeeeee!" Mello attempted to blend the exact mix of desperation and need that would evoke some form of pity.

Since Matt made no move to stop his game, Mello decided drastic measures were in order. Being sure to make it clear that his every movement was a monumental struggle for which he should be given the utmost sympathy, Mello swung his feet from the armrest to the floor, trudged over to Matt's chair, seized the Game Boy from his hands (despite loud yells and stammers of protest), and fumbled for the "off" switch. Matt blinked up at him, his eyes filling with tears and disbelief.

"Mello do you…do you realise the gravity of what you just did?" His voice had cracked. Jesus Christ, did a game really mean that much to him?

"I successfully got your attention." Mello smirked gleefully. "Now come on! Let's go on an adventure! I have a really, really cool idea. Ready? We can steal flour from the kitchen and put it in Near's clothes or something—he wouldn't even notice until he's all covered in it because it's white, y'know? And then when he goes to take a shower it'll get lumpy and-"

"Mello, you do understand that Near will notice if there is flour all over his stuff. And there has to be egg in it for it to get lumpy. But I'm not helping you anyway, because I was just about to beat Lance, you bastard!" With that, Matt shoved his head under the cushion he had been sitting on and wailed as pathetically as he could.

"Well maybe you should have saved!" Mello was aware that it was not entirely fair for him to have turned off Matt's game, but he felt very justified. He had not been paid attention to, which he considered to be a serious offence.

Matt removed his head from beneath the cushion to glare angrily in Mello's direction. The dramatic effect was a bit diminished since his glasses were dangling precariously from one ear and there were tears and snot all over his puffy red face. "YOU CAN'T SAVE IN THE MIDDLE OF A BATTLE, YOU FUCKING N00B!"

Mello stopped snickering and slapped the back of Matt's head, causing the glasses to finally drop to the floor.

"DON'T call me a n00b, bitchface!"

"Whatever! I'm not talking to you!"

"Fine! Then stop talking to me!"

Matt pursed his lips, plucked his glasses from the floor, shoved them onto his face with more force than was strictly necessary, and stomped out of the common room, leaving Mello with his Game Boy and a disconcerting sense of defeat.

Stupid fucking Matt and his stupid fucking Pokémon.

Mello began the long, arduous journey of roughly fifteen metres back to his bedroom, making sure to kick aside any small objects (and children) that dared to stand in his path.

Great. Now he was short a best friend. How the hell was he going to spend the rest of his afternoon?

Mello kicked open the door to his and Matt's room, fully expecting to see Matt already skulking on his bed. Instead, he found the room to be completely devoid of life. Strange. Mello tossed the Game Boy onto Matt's bed and began to vaguely wonder where he had got to, but before he could further explore that idea he became very distracted by a bit of paper on his own bed.

Cautiously, Mello edged toward it, suspicious of Matt and his need for revenge. Closer inspection, however, revealed that it was simply a very thin envelope and was therefore unlikely to cause Mello any bodily harm unless it contained anthrax or something, which he doubted. Where would Matt even get anthrax? Pssh.

Mello tore open the carefully sealed envelope, extracted the folded-up paper inside, and shook it open. His jaw dropped just enough to make him look incredibly daft.

M—

I need to discuss your placement with you. Please stop by my room sometime this evening—I'm on the third floor this time. You and N are the only children who know I'm at Wammy's right now; please do not change this.

—L

P.S. I have chocolate cake. You may have half.

Mello's stomach had rocketed up, then plummeted down, and was currently bobbing between the two. This made him slightly nauseated.

L good! Placement possibly good, possibly bad. No way to know.

Mello shot a despairing look at the clock on his nightstand and was horrified to find that it was only four in the afternoon. Four, thought Mello, is most certainly not the evening. Neither is four-thirty. Five would be pushing it, but surely L wouldn't mind.

Mello flopped onto his bed and jiggled his foot impatiently. An hour. Sixty entire minutes. Three thousand and six hundred seconds. This was a simply unbearable length of time!

A thought so terrible that he had to bolt upright occurred to him: what if L had decided that he, Mello, was entirely too stupid to possibly inherit the title of L? What if he was going to tell him that he had to leave Wammy's immediately? What if Mello would be forced to roam the streets selling drugs and his body until he died of AIDS and pneumonia, all alone in a box in the snow and smelling of urine? Oh God, this seemed to be a completely plausible scenario!

Slowly and stiffly, he laid back down onto the bed, looking more like a cadaver than anything else.

Calm. Mello could be calm. Mello was as one with the universe. One with the fucking universe, damn it.

He glanced at the clock again. Fuck. 4:12 pm. Mello contemplated this. He could wait and be painfully anxious, or he could risk having L think he was overly eager. The second choice was obviously preferable. He'd just need to take up as much time as possible grooming himself. That was all.

Mello hopped off his bed and set about the process of making himself presentable. Perhaps if he was extra-pretty, nothing bad would happen. This was a good, solid plan. He carefully stepped into the bathroom he and Matt shared and nearly cried—the floor was completely covered in his and Matt's clothes, and the countertop was coated in a lumpy collage of toothpaste, soap, and spilt nail polish. These were not the correct conditions! Where the hell was the brush? How would he paint his toenails?

Mello released a bit of his frustration on Matt's towering pile of dirty trousers. Matt's trousers deserved to be kicked. What had they ever done for anybody? Besides cover Matt's bits? Nothing.

He let out a sharp yelp of pain as his toe collided with something distinctly hard and un-trouser-like. When he glared down to find the perpetrator, he discovered that he had located a brush. How clever of him! He had obviously planned it to be so.

As he happily jerked the brush of dubious cleanliness through his hair, Mello was startled to hear a strange sparking noise. It sounded a bit like…static?

Shit.

Mello turned to the perpetually fogged-up mirror, wiped it with someone's jimjam bottoms, and was horrified to see that he resembled a very surprised hedgehog.

The best solution to this was clearly to put his head under the tap. Quickly! Mello immediately regretted this decision when the cold water cascaded upon his abused head and splashed without mercy onto his shirt. He retracted himself to find that there was now toothpaste in his hair. Sick. Mello used a towel he could only pray was clean and rubbed as furiously as he could without too much risk of split ends.

Shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshit….

When he paused this mantra for a quick glance at the time, he saw that, through some cruel trick of fate, it was five o'clock.

Shit.

Mello ran for the door, tripping slightly over the various unmentionables on the bathroom floor. He completely forgotten that five was a bit early, really—instead, it seemed to him that he had to hurry— for if he did not, all sorts of bad things would happen!

Matt chose that moment to carelessly fling the door open and run headfirst into Mello, who fell back onto his bum in the least dignified manner possible.

"OW! Matt, what the hell?"

"Ha ha! Oh, wow. Just a sec." Matt held up a finger to demonstrate this and bent over to catch his breath, still chuckling. He seemed to have temporarily forgotten his argument with Mello in his excitement; Mello was not inclined to point this out.

"Okay, okay. You really should have been there! I was in the common room, right? And Near was in there too, putting together a puzzle for a change and then Roger walked in all important-like, like he's so busy and stuff, and then he stepped on one of Near's trains that he had lying around and the wheels moved, like they do, and he fell over and he tripped over Near and it was awesome!" Matt grinned proudly at having had the foresight to be present for this monumental event.

"So I ran here to tell you and-" he stopped short, having noticed Mello, who was trying very hard to not clutch at his pained bum. His hair was dripping a disgusting mixture of water and toothpaste.

"You look kind of…" Matt gestured vaguely towards his own head and pulled a face. "And your pants have got brown all down the front."

"It's chocolate!" snapped Mello, perhaps a bit too defensively. "And I have to go now."

"What?" Matt's face dropped. "But we need to go make fun of Roger!"

"Yeah, well, I have important stuff to do."

"Looking like that?"

"YES!" And Mello stomped out, clicking the door shut in a very, very mature and sophisticated manner. He walked as casually as he could manage with his eyes wide and joints refusing to bend until he rounded a corner, then he abandoned all pretences and sprinted down the hall, up the stairs, down another hall, around a corner, and stopped short in front of a set of double wooden doors.


	2. Chapter 2

Trembling slightly, he knocked a little too loudly on the doors, which were immediately opened by Mr Wammy. Mello, used to this sort of procedure, lifted a hand and smiled by way of greeting. Mr Wammy's moustache twitched up at the corners and his chin withdrew a bit into his neck.

"Good evening, Mello. L is expecting you." Mello was bowed into the room, which had changed significantly since earlier that summer when it was being used as a classroom. A large four-poster bed, presumably for decoration, was situated in one corner; a table covered in papers, laptops, and various sweets was in the middle of the room; surrounding this table were three of the puffiest white chairs Mello had ever seen—perched in one of these was L. Mello could just see the tufts of messy black hair peeking over the top of the chair, but there was that feeling—that aura that was undeniably and completely and perfectly L.

Mr Wammy exited the room, clicking the doors ever-so-slightly, leaving Mello to stand awkwardly and wait to be acknowledged.

"Go ahead and sit down, Mello. I have cake."

A spidery hand slid a plate supporting a smallish cake further down the table and into Mello's field of vision. Mello practically skipped over to the chair next to L's, eager to partake in a tasty treat. He plopped down happily, shot a pleasant smile at L, and nearly fell out of his chair.

The last time Mello had seen L, he had been eleven and L had been twenty-one. His view of L had been simple enough: L was a tall, older person who was truly awesome and was therefore to be emulated as much as humanly possible. Mello had taken to wearing a lot of eyeliner and hunching over until Matt had caught him applying makeup in the morning and couldn't stop laughing until Mello punched him in the stomach.

But now, there was something completely different—an unexpected new factor that changed everything about the way Mello saw the world: hormones. Mello was now fourteen, and every fibre of his being was urgently demanding that he remove his pants and drag L to the bed which would, he reasoned, be completely useless otherwise, and wasn't that sad, to be a bit of furniture with nothing to do, so he'd be doing a service, really…

"-if they are exactly equal." L was looking at him expectantly, hovering a butter knife over the cake. Mello could only assume that he planned to cut it in half. He made a vague sound of approval.

L, watching both Mello's eyes and the cake, placed the knife almost-but-not-quite exactly in the middle and began to cut at an angle, so that one half was decidedly more than half. Keeping his eyes wide, presumably to detect any objections from Mello, he placed the smaller piece on a paper plate and held it out for Mello to accept.

Mello took it without complaint. What choice did he have? L looked delighted that Mello was not going to put up a fuss and began to shovel large amounts of his own piece into his mouth.

"Foh," said L thickly around the food before swallowing. "You are aware that I have been working on the Kira case, yes?"

Mello immediately set about the process of re-prioritizing his thoughts. This was more important than the way L's lips curved just right and looked so soft and were covered in chocolate frosting…No! Kira! Focus! Mello nodded vigorously.

"I've been following it since it started. Of course, we're not allowed to know quite a bit, but I think I've got a pretty good idea of what's going on anyway. They showed us that tape from Japan after it was broadcast—you know the tape—the one where you completely cornered Kira and were like 'KILL ME IF YOU CAN!' WOW that was brilliant! It was amazing."

L seemed amused. "I'm glad you were able to see that. I was surprised it worked so quickly, to be honest." Then L's face fell slightly. "But I did not want to discuss the case itself so much as its implications for your future."

Mello's heart began to beat more quickly than was probably good for his circulatory system. Here it was. L was going to kick him out—that, or have him beheaded.

"To be frank, Mello, there seems to be a chance—not a significant chance, but a slight chance—that I will not survive."

"What?!" Mello choked on a bit of cake and had to set down the plate on top of L's already-empty one. "You can't—you can't say things like that! You'll beat Kira!"

"I certainly hope I can, and I believe I will be able to: at this point, solving the case is really only a matter of finding sufficient evidence. But Kira is an extremely clever and dangerous person, and I am—have been—in his way. I have been taking many risks in this case—more than I've ever needed to take previously—and, as a result, I believe it is necessary that I begin to sort out the business of who my successor will be." L squared himself on his feet and leaned forward. "I need more observation, but I feel that I ought to tell you that I am thinking of asking you and Near to become L together. You'd make a brilliant team; I think it-"

Mello leapt to his feet. "NO, L! No! You can't just—I can't work with Near! He's an arrogant prick! It's like he doesn't have a soul or something. That just couldn't work!"

L frowned. "Mello, I have taken your feelings towards Near into consideration. May I finish what I was saying now?"

Mello flushed and sank back into his chair. Too emotional. He was too emotional, damn it.

"Thank you. I think it would be good for you two to be partners, so long as you can work out your problems. I have not spoken to Near yet," (Mello's spirits lifted considerably at the knowledge that he had been asked to see L before Near had) "but I believe he will find this acceptable, possibly exciting. The only real barrier is your own reluctance." L sat back in his chair and eyed Mello's discarded cake.

"But—but Near doesn't actually want to work with me. I'd just…he'd think I'm slowing him down. He thinks he's so much better than me—it couldn't work, and I'm not the only reason!"

"Yes, yes. I'm going to need to ask you to look at this." L pointed to a laptop at the far end of the table. Excited at the prospect of being asked for his input, Mello got up to inspect the data in question. It seemed to be a list of Japanese men. From what Mello knew of Japanese, he could read what he assumed to be "police force", but may have been "cave conjecture". What did this mean? Mello knew that L was working with the Japanese police—these men—but why did he need to view a list? Mello risked a glance at L, and was shocked to see that L had taken the opportunity to steal his cake.

"Hey!" Mello angrily reached to take it back, but L stood up and held the plate just out of Mello's reach.

"Mello did not consider that I would distract him to take his cake. Therefore, he has lost and I have won. The cake is my prize. I would like to enjoy it now without him attempting to steal it."

"Can't steal my own cake…dirty trick…" But L had already finished it off and was licking the fork in a most distracting manner. Mello's eyes glazed over slightly.

"I am going to ask Near to see me tomorrow. The day after that, I would like to speak with you again. Hopefully, your feelings on the matter of becoming L will have changed slightly. But now I believe you should be going to eat dinner." L smiled innocently. "You are probably quite hungry, yes?"

Mello desperately wanted to glare and point out the obvious: that L had taken his food. But he couldn't manage it. Instead, he found himself nodding serenely and allowing himself to be ushered out of the door with a quick ruffle of his toothpaste-encrusted hair.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter contains shota pr0nz. Read at your own peril.

-----------------------------------------------

As Mello walked down to the dining hall, hands firmly in his pockets in an unconscious imitation of L, he felt very discontent. These situations—L's suggestion and L's attractiveness—were simply not going to work. Near could not be dealt with. Near was impossible. Surely L, as the most intelligent human being Mello knew, would realise this in time.

Mello's attraction to L, however—that was something that had a solution somewhere. There were two obvious answers: confront L or get a girlfriend. To his chagrin, his mind unhelpfully supplied the mental image of Matt in a sundress.

Well, actually…that wasn't a bad idea, all sundresses aside. Matt almost certainly wouldn't mind—after all, it wasn't like they'd never experimented a bit before—perhaps if he simply focused all of his romantic feelings towards Matt, he wouldn't need to worry about L. Solution!

Amazed by his own brilliance, Mello entered the dining hall and went to go sit next to Matt at their usual table, only to discover that Matt was not there.

The hell? Mello couldn't sit by himself! He twirled around frantically to locate Matt and was appalled to see that he had sat down at the table where those kids who played Yu-Gi-Oh always were. Mello angrily strode up to the table; Matt had obviously made a mistake. He patted Matt's shoulder.

"Hey, what're you doing over here? You're not playing Yu-Gi-Oh, are you?"

"The game is called Duel Monsters, Mello; don't be stupid. I'm sitting here 'cos I'm mad at you 'cos you're a berk."

"What the fuck? You weren't mad at me an hour ago!"

"Yeah, well, I forgot. But then I remembered."

"Matt, do you even know why you were mad at me?" Matt turned slowly in his chair to stare Mello in the eye.

"You stole and turned off my Game Boy while I was about to beat Lance of the Elite Four in Pokémon Red. That is what you did."

Seeing no other option, Mello tapped him on the nose. His hand was quickly swatted away, and Matt's back was once again facing him.

"I had just beaten his Gyarados, Mello. GYARADOS."

"Pssh. GAYrados, more like!"

"That's not even funny. Now go away. I'm sitting with these guys because they understand me." Matt gestured at the league of unwashed boys, all of whom were busily comparing monsters. Only one of them seemed to be inclined to speak at this point.

"Oi, redhead kid? Gyarados isn't that hard to beat. He's only level 58 in Pokémon Red, and Lance isn't even the final boss—you have to beat Gary at the end. And if you use the Rare Candy cheat, you-"

"I DON'T USE CHEATS!"

The boy quickly returned to his deck. Mello, finding himself with nothing to contribute, decided to go back to his room. He had a large box of chocolate somewhere in his closet; he'd just eat that for dinner.

And Gayrados, he thought angrily, had been funny as hell.

Mello reclined on his bed, holding a textbook and nibbling a chocolate bar thoughtfully.

In the second half of the sixteenth century, changes in military organisation, weapons, and tactics sharply increased the cost of warfare. Because traditional sources of revenue were inadequate to finance these growing costs-

Fuck that. Mello was far more interested in, say, the French Revolution. Peasant revolts and beheadings were better than financing the growing costs of whatsit. He threw the book across the room in defeat just as Matt walked in.

Matt glanced disinterestedly from the abused textbook to Mello and seemed to deem a response inappropriate. He merely situated himself upon his bed, grabbed the Game Boy Mello had left there, and began to finish his battle with the sound turned all the way up as a form of petty revenge.

Mello groaned and shoved his head firmly under his pillow, but it failed to block out the digital cries of dragon Pokémon experiencing the agony of defeat (or whatever the hell that sound was supposed to be).

"Matt, use your headphones or something. It sounds like…like a pterodactyl being raped."

"Hmm. That sounded an awful lot like this kid I used to know. Annoying bastard, he was. But I suppose it must just be the wind."

"God damn it, Matt—now you're just being immature. Now please at least turn off the light—I wanna go to sleep."

"I am not sure why the wind wants to go to sleep, considering the sun just went down, but it did say please." Matt took off one shoe and threw it in the direction of the light switch. Instead, it hit the door and fell on its side, sad and pathetic in its failure. Matt cursed under his breath, picked up the shoe and, presumably to restore some dignity, used it as a surrogate hand to flip the switch.

"The sun did not just go down; it's been down for three and a half hours."

Matt snickered. "The wind said 'go down'."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Mello tried his best to burrow below his warm, fluffy comforter and was deeply satisfied to note that Matt had turned off the volume. Mmm. Life was good. All was well. For roughly fifteen minutes.

Due to a general inability to shut itself off, Mello's mind had taken the liberty of producing a modified version of that evening—a much-improved version in which L had supplied him with a giant chocolate cake of his very own while assuring him, in a sensuous voice, that Near would be put to death by firing squad upon the morrow, all before sweeping him off of his perfectly-groomed feet and kissing him passionately, then confessing his love in a voice made hoarse with passion while roughly ripping aside his and Mello's shirts…

As this fantasy grew more explicit, Mello found himself wishing Matt hadn't turned off the volume after all. He was developing a problem: a fairly ordinary problem with a fairly ordinary solution that he didn't particularly want Matt listening to.

He couldn't help but squirm slightly, knees knocking together and toes curling, heart beating faster and hands twitching. This was just stupid.

Keeping his ears alert for any noise from Matt, Mello allowed one hand to languidly trace circles on his abdomen while the other ran over his chest. Mello willed himself to believe that his own thin hands were L's bony ones, that it was L who was sliding his warm fingers beneath Mello's waistband and finally touching him, L who was rubbing in all the right places and pulling maybe a little too hard, but Mello didn't mind at all—L who was picking up speed, going faster and stronger and FUCK that was really starting to hurt. Mello couldn't stop his sharp intake of breath as dry friction caught up with his consciousness.

"I can hear you, you know."

Matt had mistaken his gasp of pain for pleasure. Mello was about to correct him, then realised how easy it would be to fit this into his new plan of using Matt as a replacement for L. Matt definitely wouldn't be able to resist…

"Hm. I guess you can either sit there listening, or you can pick the second option."

"…What's the second option?"

"Matt! It's not sexy if I have to say it!"

"Oh. …Oh! No! I—I'm mad at you!" Matt was clearly trying quite hard to sound indignant, but there was a definite hint of regret in his tone that Mello was not above exploiting.

"Yeah. Shame, that. Sucks for you."

"Mm," Matt murmured sadly in affirmation. "Wait, no. How does that suck for me? Sucks for you! You're the one wanking."

"Yeah. I'm the one wanking, and you're the one wanking to the sound of me wanking. And that's just sad."

"I am not wanking to the sound of you wanking."

"Not yet."

Matt made a sound of scepticism. Mello moaned in imitation of sexual ecstasy. This was shortly followed by the sound of covers rustling and Matt clambering into Mello's bed. Mello grinned.

"That's what I thought." Mello wrapped his legs around Matt's waist and decided, as he nipped at his neck, that he couldn't be arsed to feign self-control. Matt seemed to have the same idea; forgoing his pretence of anger, he rolled on top of Mello and ground their hips together, fumbling for the zipper of his jeans. The pressure of denim was not helping Mello's friction issue whatsoever.

"Matt…"

Matt looked up at the sound of his name, his eyes half-lidded and only vaguely comprehending. Mello himself didn't feel too eloquent either, so he merely whimpered and scooted up while pushing Matt's head down. Matt blinked at him for a moment, then seemed to understand and smiled smugly.

"Did you-"

"Shut up and suck me off, Matt." Matt stuck out his tongue, but complied anyway.

Matt sunk below the blankets, leaving only the top of his head exposed. Mello marvelled momentarily at the ease with which he could imagine that the red hair was black. In the dark, there really wasn't that much difference…but then he felt hot breath and a tongue and had to throw his head back with his eyes squeezed shut anyway. He grabbed onto Matt's head, his hips writhing and his breath coming in pants and whines. It was entirely too easy to believe that the hot, wet mouth belonged to L—oh God, L.

Mello pulled weakly on Matt's hair in half-hearted warning, but Matt either didn't notice or didn't care. It became clear to Mello that it was the former when he slumped back, completely spent, to the sound of Matt coughing and spluttering. He kept his eyes closed to avoid the glare he knew Matt was sending in his direction.

"That is so disgusting. I've told you that you need to warn me or something. Jesus."

Mello frowned. When Matt spoke, he was clearly not L. His illusion shattered, he opened one eye and looked apprehensively at Matt's exaggerated expression of disgust. "Whatever. Do you need me to-"

"Er, no. I kind of…I'm-"

"Oh, okay."

It was always uncomfortable just after, when the sheer randiness had been dispelled and they were left to clearly see their sticky messes and awkward bodies that had previously seemed so deeply appealing.

Mello closed his eyes again and rolled onto his side; he felt the weight of Matt lift and heard the other bed creak slightly as it accepted him instead. He smiled to himself once he was alone, pleased that his idea of substitution had worked—for he was indeed not all that horny anymore.

But he definitely still wanted to try that with L.


	4. Chapter 4

Mello observed his spiral notebook with a scowl. This was not going as planned. He had set out to create elaborate maps and strategy boards for getting into L's trousers, but hadn't known where to start and wound up drawing stick figures in compromising positions instead.

What he needed was a plan—a good, firm plan that was completely foolproof. A plan that would WORK. But how the hell could anyone manage to manipulate the renowned detective L?

He was interrupted from this thought process by lewd chuckles.

"What on EARTH are those stick figures supposed to be doing?"

Mello felt his face turn pink. To distract himself from this, he hit Matt's head with the spiral.

"They're knocking boots. Prat."

At this, Matt decided the best course of action would be to join Mello in his endeavours. Clearly, this would be the best use of their time. Mello, always quite the multi-tasker, was trying to find the best way to get L and himself in these situations. He came up blank. He didn't even know how to seduce a NORMAL person, let alone L!

Matt giggled loudly at his own drawing, gaining Mello's attention. Hmm….

"Oi, Matt"

"Mm?"

"How do you get someone into bed?"

Matt pondered this for a moment, scratching the back of his head with his pencil.

"Er…okay, I've got it. You spill water on her clothes, accidentally-like, then you say you've got dry clothes under your covers, so she'd better get naked and get in your bed. Then, er…then she's in your bed," he finished lamely.

It frightened Mello that he seriously considered this plan before firmly eschewing it. He was rather desperate, but L was just too clever.

"How do you get someone smart into bed?"

"…Tell her you're really good?" Matt eyed him suspiciously. "Why? You don't fancy anyone, do you? Because if you do, you have to tell me who it is."

"Of course I don't FANCY anybody—there's no one in this fucking orphanage worth fancying!" Matt pouted a bit at this.

"I'M worth fancying," he mumbled. Mello rolled his eyes.

"But you're my best chum. If I fancied you, that'd just be weird."

"Yeah, I guess." Matt pondered this for a bit. "Why do you need to know, then, if you don't have someone in mind? You can't possibly be studying the THEORY."

"It…it's a secret."

"Aha!" Matt tapped his nose sagely. "Secret's safe with me, boss!"

"Whatever. It's still a secret."

"You HAFTA tell me who it is! Best chums, remember? Come on, please don't make me get mad at you! I don't wanna sit with the Duel Monsters kids at lunch again!" He leaned closer to Mello and whispered as if afraid they would hear. "I don't think they bathe."

"Look, it…it's NOBODY." Matt smiled broadly, though his eyes remained sad.

"Do I know her?" Mello glared.

"Why do you keep saying 'her'? I don't recall mentioning a gender."

"Well, I think the default is normally female, seeing as…" Mello's continued glaring made Matt falter a bit. "Er…but whatever gets you off, I guess."

"Shut up. I didn't say anything about…shut up."

"Ooo-kay." Matt shut up for a total of ten seconds. "So who is it?"

"NOBODY, damn it! I don't like anyone! This conversation is going in circles."

Mello stomped off to the library, entertaining the hope that there would be a book written on this sort of thing. Almost as soon as he entered, however, he tripped over something very soft. He landed rather painfully on his hands and knees and set about trying to kill the object at fault with his eyes. Near rubbed his head sadly.

"This is the second time in two days that someone has tripped over me."

"No shit." Mello stood up and dusted himself off. "Of COURSE people are going to trip over you if you crouch in doorways. I mean, who does that? No one."

Near lifted a finger to interject. "As you've just established, I do."

"No one who isn't fucktarded."

"Mello, that word doesn't make sense. I don't understand what it's meant to say about me. The only definition that even VAGUELY works would be 'one who is mentally handicapped due to intercourse' but I don't see how that would-"

"You don't see 'cos you're fucktarded." Mello peered down at Near's half-completed puzzle. "Izzat new?"

"Yes. L brought it for me."

Several thoughts ran through Mello's mind at once upon hearing this. Near had seen L. What had L said to Near? Had L told him about his plan? Of COURSE L had told him about his plan. What did Near think about it? None of these, however, managed its way out of Mello's mouth first.

"Why didn't L bring ME a puzzle?" Near looked as if he were shocked that anyone could be so stupid.

"You don't even LIKE puzzles. You like activities that involve physical movement; you'ven't the patience to sit through an entire puzzle—you'd get bored."

Mello sniffed loudly, rubbing his nose with a finger. "I have LOADS of patience. I just don't use it, is all."

"All right, but whether you have patience or not, you still don't like puzzles, so you shouldn't be jealous that L brought one for me and not for you." Near turned his back to Mello, clicking more pieces into place.

Stunned and not quite certain as to how he ought to respond to such logic, Mello kicked at the floor a bit and, with a muted "shut up", stalked over to the tiny self-help section of the library. He shot a glare over his shoulder to see if Near was watching him but, infuriatingly, he was more interested in his puzzle.

Mello scanned briefly over the titles, hoping to see something to the effect of "How to Make the Man Ten Years your Senior Fall Madly in Love with You", but all the Wammy's House library had to offer was such useless selections as "Caution: Puberty in Progress" and "Patterson's Complete Guide to Mental Disorders". Curiosity commanded him to thumb through the latter, but after self-diagnosing himself with nearly every disorder he saw, Mello became disheartened and had to put it down.

In spite of his lack of success, years of intense education at Wammy's led Mello to firmly believe that he required a plan to proceed; attempting any project with no sort of structure was simply not done. And so he sat down at a table, extracted a few leafs of paper from a nearby stack, and began to write.

Numbered lists that gave way to bulleted lists with decreasing levels and various stylistic applications soon filled his paper; he didn't realize how furiously he had been writing half-thought-out schemes until a polite cough behind him made him jump in his chair.

"Mello, I'm not sure what it is you're trying to do, exactly, but chloroform doesn't actually work like that." Mello quickly crumpled up the paper and shoved it down the front of his shirt.

"That's right you don't know what I'm trying to do. Because it...um...I'm doing something...top secret. None of your business. And you're not allowed." Near rolled his eyes.

"It took you THAT long to come up with 'top secret'?"

"And also none of your business. That's the critical part. Now go away; 's important."

Near gave the library a furtive glance before leaning very close to Mello.

"You're not trying to kill someone, are you? Because that's illegal."

It occurred to Mello that he ought to make a really biting comeback that would suggest that he would be killing NEAR if he did not mind his own business, but he couldn't quite find the correct words, so he merely sniffed in Near's direction and scratched at his own nose. Mello hoped Near would go away without an answer, but Near was hovering patiently in front of Mello's face, clearly concerned.

"No, I'm not killing anybody. Don't be stupid." Near frowned.

"Well I hope you're not doing anything bad, anyway." He shrugged. "That plan probably won't work, unless your victim is really stupid. Or really young. It seems to rely quite heavily on sweets."

"It's not a PLAN. It's--it's a brainstorming...thing."

"Brainstorming for a plan. There are STEPS, Mello. Steps and squiggly lines."

"For fuck's sake, Near, it doesn't concern you!"

Near eyed the wad shoved down Mello's shirt warily and shuffled off.

Mello carefully extracted the paper, smoothed it, and looked over it again. It seemed like a pretty solid idea to him. He'd return to it tomorrow morning--yes, that would be best. After all, he wasn't going to be able to see L until then, so there was no hurry at all.

Feeling comforted now that he had something on paper, Mello folded his plans up and headed back to his room, whistling absently with his hands in his pockets.

Just as he was nearing the correct hallway, however, a very strong whim overtook him. It would, he decided quite suddenly, be best to do this NOW, before he lost his nerve. Or was nerve less important than a re-thinking? Mello dithered for roughly thirty seconds, then ran as fast as he could to L's room.

He paused, doorknob already half-turned. Perhaps he had-

"Watari, someone seems to be trying to open the door. Look into it, would you?"

Mr Wammy carefully cracked the door open to reveal a very startled Mello. He smiled kindly.

"Mello wants to talk to you, I believe." He gestured into the room, waiting for Mello to timidly enter, then exited, shutting the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter contains a pretty graphic description of an activity that's illegal in most countries due to the ages of those concerned. So uh…don't go out and rape a teenager after reading it, okay? Okay. Glad we're clear on that.

Mello contemplated L's hunched-over figure. He was pretty busy looking at files, probably from the Kira case…maybe he wouldn't notice…if….

No. That's fucking stupid. The man who was the three greatest detectives in the world was bound to notice if the nervous-but-supposedly-harmless little teenager he had allowed into his room started to—to—to hump his leg or something, no matter how involved he was in the case. Mello wrinkled his nose slightly at the mental image of himself blissfully humping away at L's leg, completely unnoticed. Ew. No—there had to be better ways. There were better ways. Mello had formulated a good plan—he just needed the bollocks to go through with it.

Mello tried to take a deep breath but wound up choking on it. He tried to cough as discretely as he could, which earned him a look of polite concern.

"What's wrong, Mello? Did you choke on your chocolate? Your face is very red. You should drink some tea." L slid his cup closer to Mello, who declined it by waving a flustered hand. Somehow, he doubted that drinking almost-pure sugar would appease his throat. L shrugged and drained the cup before turning back to his work.

God damn it. That wasn't smooth at all. Fuck everything.

All right. No, it was okay, really. No big deal. He may have given L the impression of being too stupid to eat properly, but all was not lost. Take two.

Skipping over the deep breath this time, Mello rose from his spot on the floor near L's chair and stepped over so he was behind him.

"Oh, are you bored, Mello? I'm sorry. Would you like to go play with your friends instead?"

"N-no!" Mello squeaked. Stupid fucking puberty. He cleared his throat and tried again. "No, I—I just wanted t-to look at…whatever you're looking at." Lame. Lame!

L turned slightly to give Mello a searching look. "Mello is behaving strangely."

"Oh, no! No. It's—it's just that I—well, you know. Um. Had a fight with Matt. I had a fight. With Matt. And he's my best friend, you know? And we fought. So I'm weird. Weirded out! Disconcerted."

L shifted in his chair, then nodded in acceptance before once again returning to the files.

This was not going according to plan. Not that Mello had genuinely expected everything to follow his plan, which had included him being about a foot taller and having a suave moustache, but the situation was still very unsatisfactory. Oh, fuck it.

Mello kicked caution aside and placed his hands gingerly in L's hair before beginning to stroke. A nice, platonic…head massage. Yes.

L had frozen at the contact, but he relaxed once he realised what, exactly, Mello was trying to do.

"Thank you, Mello; that's very kind of you."

Mello gave him a vague "mmm" of confirmation. L's hair wasn't especially soft, but it still felt nice. It was almost fluffy, really. How odd. Mello began to scratch in circles around L's head, taking the opportunity to thoroughly run his fingers through L's hair. This was going quite well!

L rubbed his toes together and emitted a small sigh of contentment. Sweet Jesus. Mello's knees felt wobbly. His heart began to beat at a pace that was almost certainly not healthy. His innards were quite possibly being used as a sort of perverse playground for all manner of small woodland creatures.

Caution, which had clambered back up to its original position and was just about to sternly interject, was knocked cold by a plank of metaphorical plywood.

Mello leaned down and kissed the top of L's head.

He hesitated, waiting for a reaction, but none came. A glance at L's reflection in the monitor revealed that he was still smiling serenely at the massage he was receiving. Had he not felt it, or did he just not care?

Taking care to keep scratching, Mello tilted his head down a bit more and tentatively kissed L's temple. The top of his ear. The side of his jaw. Mello slid so that he was facing L, switching the positions of his hands so he could keep them in L's hair. His cheek. The corner of his mouth.

Mello looked up at L. He was no longer smiling. The look he was giving Mello was a combination of fear, curiosity, and something else that Mello desperately hoped wasn't disgust.

Well, he had gone this far. Screw it.

Mello brought his mouth close to L's, closed his eyes, and kissed him as chastely as his hormone-driven body would allow.

L's lips tensed, but he didn't push Mello away, which was more than enough encouragement. Mello broke the kiss momentarily before tilting his head to a better angle and diving back to L's mouth, abandoning all pretences of demureness. He was kissing L. He was kissing L. L wasn't kissing back, but he was still kissing L! Mello stifled a whimper and nibbled slightly at L's lower lip, hoping to entice him to open his mouth. He felt frenzied; there was entirely too much adrenaline and testosterone in his system for him to think properly.

L suddenly made a noise in his throat that suggested he wanted Mello to kindly get off of him and pay attention to what he was going to say. The sound jerked Mello unpleasantly back to reality.

He backed slowly down to the floor below L and bit his lip. Oh, Christ. The significance of what he had just done crashed onto him and settled somewhere in his abdomen. He really, really didn't want to look at L right now. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Was it possible to will oneself to death? It was worth a shot.

"Mello, do you understand that your actions just now were extremely inappropriate?"

Mello chewed at his lower lip a bit more and nodded in horror at his own knees. Why did he feel so much like a toddler who had just drawn on the walls? He wasn't going to be punished or something, was he? Surely not. Mello's mind suddenly conjured, unbidden, the image of L smiling lewdly and informing him that he had been a very naughty boy who needed a good spanking. Mello wasn't sure whether he should be aroused, amused, or afraid.

"Mello, please look at me."

Mello reluctantly complied. What was L going to do? Oh, God, he wasn't going to pick Near because of this, was he? Near, who knew how to keep it in his pants and was therefore more worthy of L's title than he, Mello—the boy who would slobber all over you soon as look at you? No, no, that didn't make sense. …or did it?

"Why did you kiss me?"

If L had been anyone else—Matt, for instance—Mello would have smirked and countered with "Why NOT?" before going in for another kiss—one that would probably be reciprocated.

But things were different with L. Even before puberty hit and it had occurred to Mello that he'd really like to do all manner of ungodly things to him, he'd acted differently around L. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was more dependant, perhaps—more childish, maybe. He could happily accept that L was in charge, probably because Mello was not number two with L—he was just Mello. Mello, the blonde kid with an androgynous face and a fondness for chocolate. Mello, who was given to outbursts of anger and violence, but who was also capable of extreme love and adoration. And L was…L. The only person Mello had to look up to. The only one Mello had ever wanted to follow.

"…Mello?"

Mello realized with a start that he'd been silent for quite some time. Crap. What was the question? Oh, yeah. Hm.

"I—um. Well, because…because I think that…it would be….I mean, I just, well—well, could we…"

Mello took a long breath, hoping L would step in at some point to stop his hopeless rambling. What the fuck was he trying to say? This had to be frustrating, but L was just looking at Mello as if he were explaining how he'd arrived at an incorrect answer to a math problem.

"I…like…I kind of…well, I love you. And—and maybe you…you like me, right? So—so maybe it could be more…than…that?" Mello immediately winced at how incredibly daft he sounded.

L, however, adopted a very thoughtful look.

"Now Mello, you are an extremely clever boy. I'm sure you know why that is implausible, yes?"

"Well YEAH it's not conventional, per se," Mello spluttered. "But that doesn't make it impossible! I mean, I could name about thirty countries where it's perfectly legal, and I'm not a child, you know, and I think it really doesn't even matter what other people think because I love you, L! Really!"

Mello didn't realise he had been shouting until he saw that L's eyes had widened to the point where he looked more like a startled owl than anything else. L blinked a few times to regain his composure.

"Perhaps you could name thirty countries where it is legal, but we are in none of those countries. This is England, and the age of consent is sixteen. You are fourteen. Therefore a sexual relationship of any kind, which I believe is what you are suggesting, would be illegal. That is the first reason." L held up one finger. "There are three. What are the others?"

"Because you're in charge of me! According to the Sexual Offences Act of 2003, passed this May, it is illegal for a person to engage in sexual activity with an individual under the age of eighteen if they are in a position of trust in relation to that individual, such as a teacher, care giver, guardian, et cetera!" Mello quoted triumphantly. He had figured out the answer quickly and efficiently. He was number one! But he had also pointed out a reason why he could not be with L. His instincts had betrayed him, damn it. This was Near's fault. Stupid, fat Near.

L smiled and held up a second finger. "Correct. It would be a violation of my responsibilities toward you. So that's two of them. Keep thinking."

Mello thought. "You…like women and not men?"

"Very close, but not quite. I am asexual."

"Are not! You've made it up. Humans reproduce sexually— you can't just decide to become an asexual being." Mello had been given the mental image of L reproducing by means of fragmentation, and he was not pleased by it. He folded his arms over his chest to show this.

L looked highly affronted.

"I have not just made it up— it's so. Roughly one in every one hundred humans does not experience sexual attraction. It has nothing to do with asexual reproduction."

"The HELL? You can't be telling me you can't have sex! That's not how people work."

"I can have sex; I just do not feel the need to." L's patience seemed to be wearing thin. "There is a difference, Mello, between feeling no sexual attraction and being impotent."

Mello frowned deeply until it occurred to him that his face couldn't possibly be attractive like that.

"I don't get it."

L sighed. "Look, some people simply do not actively desire romantic relationships and the activities they imply. You're a clever boy, Mello. I suspect that you are only claiming to not understand because you are hoping I will tell you that I am lying and am, in fact, madly attracted to you. Is that what you want to hear?"

Mello's face lit up and he nodded vigorously, delighted that L had caught on so quickly. L, however, was less amused.

"Well I'm not lying, so that is not going to happen." L raised a third finger and held his hand in front of Mello's face, which was currently projecting deep betrayal and disappointment. "Three reasons, Mello." He waved his hand a little to emphasise this.

Mello stared at L's fingers. They were very…pretty. Slender and a bit bony, but quite strong. They probably tasted like sugar, since L had been eating sugar cubes all day and licking them. Before he had thoroughly thought out a plan, Mello seized L's wrist and licked his index finger tentatively before putting it entirely in his mouth.

L did nothing. He was probably intrigued, wondering what the fuck Mello was doing. Hell, Mello was wondering what the fuck Mello was doing. Performing fellatio on L's finger? Was that even something that people did? Mello wasn't sure, but he felt pleased at the thought of having L's finger in his mouth, so he decided to just work with that and see what happened.

Mello closed his eyes slightly and began to move his tongue over L's finger, which, he noted, did indeed taste vaguely of sugar, but mostly of L-saliva, which was not all-in-all unpleasant. Mello began to nip and suck lightly, caressing L's wrist with both hands; it felt surprisingly nice, having L's finger in his mouth.

L made a small noise, causing Mello to look up at him and make a comically surprised face of his own (enhanced, of course, by the fact that he still had a finger in his mouth). L's eyes were also half-closed, and he was rubbing his lower lip with his thumb, which would normally mean that he was thinking hard about something, but he didn't appear to have all that much on his mind at the moment. He was blinking far more often than was normal for him; he was rubbing his feet together entirely too quickly for it to be mere scratching; he was breathing like he'd been running and was trying to get his breath back to normal. Christ, what was going…oho. Mello grinned up at L in a truly horrifying manner. L responded by quickly retracting his entire hand, wiping it on his trousers, and shoving it determinedly into his pocket.

"Mello…you can't—just—no! No more of that."

"Hmm. You sound a little less eloquent than normal, L. Something wrong?" Mello smiled deviously and traced circles on L's thigh. L shifted, but couldn't move too much without shoving Mello to the floor, which he seemed hesitant to do.

"Well, you sound a little more like the lead in a bad pornographic film than normal, but I was not going to mention it, now was I?"

"Do you know what I think, L?"

"No. No, I do not. What do you think, Mello? Is it terribly interesting?" L seemed rather more bitter and snappish than usual, which Mello took as a sign that he was flustered. Excellent.

"I think you liked that more than you wanted to."

L swallowed and glared at Mello, pursing his lips, then quickly normalizing them for fear of Mello finding them more attractive in an altered state. Mello leaned forward and nibbled on them anyway, still grinning.

"I think you secretly want me to keep going, don't you?"

L simply frowned and shook his head rather weakly. It seemed more like a plea than anything else. Mello really didn't care. He was receiving mixed signals, and he was damned if he wasn't going to only heed the ones that were relevant to his interests.

Mello swung one leg over L's waist so that he was sitting on L's lap, facing him. He shoved his hands back into L's hair, holding his head still, and kissed him hungrily. L would cooperate, damn it. He would. Mello moved his hips forward very slightly against L's and was met with a strained sort of grunt that most likely signified disapproval. Interesting. Mello tried it again with more force and was delighted to discover that L was reacting. L seemed completely miserable, but Mello was too enthralled to care much. No matter how damn asexual L was—or claimed to be, anyway—he was still male, and Mello knew what to do to get a male nice and randy. Frottage—though typical to awkward adolescents and an altogether ridiculous word—was proving effective. L was frowning (grimacing, really), biting his lip, and pushing Mello away very, very half-heartedly—Mello was perfectly aware that L was stronger than him and could easily pick him up and deposit him just outside the door, but he wasn't. L was clearly torn between wanting Mello to leave him alone and wanting Mello, and it seemed, to Mello's amazement, that he was actually leaning a little on the side of the latter. Mello just had to make sure he didn't let up. Brilliant.

Mello continued rubbing their hips together at a steady tempo and cautiously slid his hands up L's loose white shirt, ignoring L's hands pushing weakly at his shoulders. The realization that he was now touching parts of L that were normally covered in clothing hit Mello rather forcefully, and he couldn't stop himself from making a sound of contentment that contrasted harshly with L's own uncomfortable whines, which only increased as Mello's fingertips ran lingeringly around his nipples and up and down his sides.

As it seemed that L wasn't going to stop pushing him away, a pressure that was really beginning to annoy Mello, he removed one hand from its occupation, grabbed L's jaw and, despite a squeak of protest, kissed him rather wetly, using his tongue and his hand to try and get L to open his goddamn mouth. When this failed, Mello ground against him in a particularly forceful manner; when L was unable to stop himself from opening a gasp, Mello seized the opportunity to shove his tongue in, subtlety be damned.

After a few dreadful moments of fruitless caressing, a change came over L. He seemed to have decided to give up, finding the path of least resistance to be submitting to Mello's will. In a completely unexpected change of heart, L's tongue met Mello's and, moreover, entered his own mouth, hungrily—almost desperately—exploring. L's hands ceased their shoving and instead fell rather uselessly limp, running down the small of Mello's back and eliciting a pleased shiver.

Marvelling at his own ingenuity, Mello was hesitant to remove his hands from L, but the desire to remove his own clothing was stronger; he pulled his torso away and quickly tugged his shirt over the top of his head and tossed it to the side. Now that his eyes were open, he saw L's face and felt a little guilty for the first time that evening.

L's eyes, normally wide and inquisitive, were half-lidded and dilated with lust—a sign of Mello's success and prowess at seduction (or, rather, ability to solicit until the other party became too frustrated or tired to resist)—but there was also a distinct sense of worry. L's eyebrows were knit in confliction—it was a sad sight, so Mello closed his own eyes and kissed him again to avoid it. He arched his back, flushing his bare stomach against L's covered one and tugged at the edges of L's shirt to convey his dissatisfaction with that particular barrier.

L, however, was firmer on this point—he took Mello's hands in his and, finally using his strength, placed them back on his shoulders, withdrawing from Mello's mouth long enough to say, without a hint of weakness, "No", before returning.

Mello was confused by this, but didn't want to question L, lest he provoke his reasoning process and make it clear to him that this was not the brilliant idea Mello was convinced it was. He mentally shrugged, noting to ask L about this later, and, refusing to remove his hands from L's body, ran them down to his pants instead.

Assuming that L's unwillingness to remove his shirt indicated a similar disinclination to get rid of his trousers, Mello ignored L's waistband entirely and instead went straight for the zipper, using one hand to hold L's chest back as he slid to the ground on his knees, slipping his fingers into L's jeans, beneath his boxers, and gingerly removing the erection he was relieved to find. Looking up at L from between his legs, he caught L's eye in a rather belated request for permission.

L merely tilted his head back and sighed heavily, tucking a strand of hair behind Mello's ear affectionately and reclining in his chair with one knee up. L's hand fell to the nape of Mello's neck, his fingers winding through long blonde hair.

Mello was suddenly made very nervous. What if something dreadful happened, like if he forgot what he was doing and BIT or something, or choked and died because surely L would not be able to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre when it was part of his body that needed expelling, or—no, no. Mello had done this loads of times before, albeit with Matt who, as a fourteen-year-old, was not quite as large as an adult man, but there shouldn't be that much difference, right?

Comforting himself with this, Mello plucked up his courage and exhaled onto L, who immediately strengthened his grip on Mello's hair. Running his hands over L's thighs, Mello leaned forward and swirled his tongue around L's head a few times before taking him entirely into his mouth.

L whimpered and placed his other hand on top of Mello's head, pushing him down quite suddenly. This rather surprised Mello, who had to resist the very strong urge to cough and gag, his mind again filling with horrifying images of Heimlich manoeuvres gone terribly wrong. L, however, judging from the new moans being produced, was enjoying the way Mello's tongue and throat were uncomfortably convulsing, so Mello assumed he should hold this out as he began to move up and down—slowly, then picking up speed. He was interrupted by L's voice suddenly ringing through his heavy pants—

"Mello, I—I—"

Mello thought very quickly. He himself was painfully aroused, but L almost certainly would become horrified and kick him out as soon as he returned to his senses. This would not do—not at all. What he really wanted, more than anything else, was sex. Not oral sex, PROPER sex. And he was going to get it.

Mello removed his mouth to a strangled sort of cry of protest and grabbed L's hands from his neck, forcing them to his sides. L peered down at him in uncomprehending indignance.

"Wh-what-"

"I want you to fuck me." Mello tried very hard to keep his voice firm.

L groaned, extracted one hand from Mello's grip, and covered his eyes with it in exasperation.

"Mello, I can't—I can't just—you-"

"Why not? Of course you can. You've done it before, right?"

"A few times at—at university, yes, but Mello," L peeked at him from between his fingers. "You are not old enough, and I would—" his voice cracked. "I would hurt you, and—please, can you just keep-"

"L, I don't care. I don't care if I'm not old enough, I don't care if you'd hurt me, and I'm NOT doing ANYTHING until you say yes."

"But—" L leaned forward, wide eyes imploring Mello to see reason. "Neither of us has any sort of lubricant, Mello."

"Tch." Mello rolled his eyes and, ignoring how deeply uncomfortable his level of randiness was making him, went into L's bathroom in search of something useable. He had to move quickly, but as he was faced by the surprisingly devoid-of-product bathroom, he saw that this would be a challenge.

His first instinct was to grab the liquid soap, but a striking mental image of the way soap tended to make bubbles caused him to recoil. L, he noticed, had no conditioner, and his off-brand shampoo struck Mello as the sort of thing that was only fit for dumping onto Near's morning toast. Mello tugged at his hair in frustration and was relieved to see a plain bottle of hand lotion. Perfect. Seizing it triumphantly, he practically ran back to L, who had his face in his hands and his knees to his chest.

Mello found this image disheartening, so he quickly took L by the wrist and, waving the lotion in the air to show L that there was no excuse there, pulled him to his bed. It seemed fitting to him that there be a bed—otherwise it was just—just barbaric. Or something. Mello couldn't be bothered to think coherent thoughts, and the way L was wordlessly whining led him to believe they were in the same condition.

Mello lightly pushed L into a sitting position and once again climbed onto his lap, legs on either side of his waist and tongue running over his throat, nipping gently and rocking forward, eliciting stifled moans and renewing the heat of just a few moments ago.

There was a butterfly stampede going on in Mello's abdomen, but he decided to ignore it as he wrapped his legs firmly around L and laid down, pulling L on top of him. L propped himself up onto his bony elbows and nuzzled Mello's neck, seemingly unable to stop himself from instinctively rolling his hips forward. Mello gasped in delighted surprise when L's hand worked its way below his waistband, tugging his trousers and boxers roughly down together and, at last, like Mello had fantasized about since L's return to Wammy's, touched him exactly where he needed it. Mello's back arched again and it took effort to not moan too loudly; he had to stop himself from coming right then. The knowledge that that was L's hand moving up and down for his benefit was positively amazing.

L murmured an apology about moving too quickly but reached for the lotion anyway, giving it an apprehensive look and hesitating. Mello laughed a bit out of giddiness.

"If you don't do it, I'll do it for you, L."

L smiled weakly.

"Mello, I need to ask you—have you ever done this before?" Mello flushed.

"Well, not this, not exactly. I mean, I'm not all inexperienced and stuff… I know how it works and all-" L kissed him, probably to make him shut up, but Mello wasn't particularly fussed.

His eyes closed and he heard the bottle snap open and shut, heard L's breath hitch as he applied it to himself, heard another mumbled apology, and squeaked a little as he felt a finger, warm and slippery, quite suddenly invade his person.

Why—why did he have to think things like that in otherwise sexy situations? Why?

This problem was quickly solved when L's finger began slowly moving, making Mello squirm with unexpected pleasure and banishing any thought processes that had thus far somehow managed to survive. The finger was joined by a second, and Mello was vaguely surprised, as they began moving and stretching, that he wasn't really in much pain. He was extremely uncomfortable, to be certain, and it was beginning to hurt a little, but it was nothing he couldn't handle—not like books and the internet had told him.

L, apparently not seeing fit to try a third finger, removed them to Mello's disappointment. L apologized for a third time—it was really beginning to get a bit annoying—but before Mello could kindly ask him to get the hell on with it, he was overwhelmed by such incredible pain that he had to bite his knuckles to stop himself from shouting.

He felt tricked and betrayed. This was not pleasant. He had been told pleasant! Surely this was not the normal amount of pain—someone would have mentioned that sex was a terrible, terrible thing never to be attempted. Surely there had been a grave mistake.

Mello's eyes felt irritated. He rubbed them and was horrified to feel that he was crying a little. L hadn't seen—had he?

Mello forced one eye open to observe L's reaction, but L's own eyes were firmly closed. His mouth was most uncharacteristically hanging open in an expression of absolute pleasure that Mello would have found positively beautiful in most situations, but presently felt rather jealous of. He wasn't sure if he should tell L to stop or not; he had wanted this so desperately, but he hadn't quite been prepared…

L struggled to control his breathing—it had clearly been a while since he'd experienced anything of the sort—then began moving, forcing Mello's eyes to squeeze shut again and his mouth to drop open, effectively ridding Mello of his vague desire to stop the entire thing.

There was still quite a bit of pain, but every time L moved forward, an intense surge of pleasure jolted through Mello's entire body. He bit his lip and dug his painted nails into L's shirt, praying feverishly that he wouldn't stop and not even trying to stop his hips from jerking upward and his legs from squeezing L's waist.

L groaned and began to move faster, adding an amount of force Mello hadn't quite thought him capable of. He could hear and feel the headboard hitting the wall and found it strangely hot that L didn't seem to care that someone might be able to hear.

The pain gradually dissipated until it was gone altogether, leaving Mello in a state of pure ecstasy. He wanted to give L some sort of verbal encouragement, but all that came out of his mouth were incomprehensible vowel noises.

L, possibly misinterpreting or possibly realizing his neglect, once again grabbed onto Mello and began pumping up and down almost-but-not-quite-exactly in time with his thrusting—Mello could have hardly blamed him for feeling a big frenzied: him himself was whimpering like an idiot and he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold out much longer, no matter how badly he wanted this to never end.

In spite of his efforts at self-control, Mello felt something in his abdomen tighten and found himself spilling rather forcefully onto L's hand and shirt. He wasn't sure if he should feel guilty about that or not.

L largely ignored this; his only indication that he had noticed at all was letting go of Mello and instead steadying himself. L continued for a few more seconds, during which Mello blinked and smiled stupidly, then gasped and shuddered, rolling off of Mello and onto his side, zipping up his jeans and sighing contentedly.

Mello was completely dazed—it was as if he were coming down from the sort of high he had assumed to be achievable only through use of recreational drugs. He had the half-formed thought of putting on his trousers, but then he realised that there was something trickling down his thigh and decided against it in favour of studying this new development. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of a disgusting mixture of blood and semen. He had been bleeding? Jesus.

He felt L shift beside him; when Mello turned at the noise, he saw that he had adopted his standard position of crouching with his thumb on his mouth, wide-eyed and staring into the distance.

"It did not occur to me that I should have used a condom."

Mello laughed at this—he was entirely too happy to care about ridiculous things like protection.

"It's not like I'm going to get pregnant with your arse-babies, L." Mello wrapped an arm around L's waist and snuggled into his side blissfully. L gave him a look of shock and disgust.

"My WHATS?" Mello frowned. Why did L insist upon speaking when all he wanted to do was sleep?

He was about to tell L to shush when L suddenly got up, making Mello fall onto his face onto a pillow with an undignified sort of "oof!" sound.

"I need to take a very hot shower now," L said, distractedly picking a bit at his drying shirt.

Mello was momentarily disappointed, but he was too sleepy to dwell on this. He scooted over to the warm spot where L had been, crawled under the covers, and dozed off.


	6. Chapter 6

Mello woke up to the sound of rapid typing and occasional slurps: definitely L noises. He yawned and stretched happily, slightly disconcerted by his own nakedness but willing to overlook it.

He wanted to get up to see what L was working on, but found that it hurt to move. After a few minutes of horrified lounging, Mello decided to ignore the pain and get up anyway.

The sight of his trousers and underwear strewn on the floor made him marvel for a bit—it was like in a film or something!—but the cold of the room coerced him into destroying the novel sight by putting them on. He noted that his shirt was still by L's table, so that is where he went, wincing slightly, but still delighted by his earlier success.

As he came up behind L, he saw that his hair was quite wet and his skin was rather more ruddy than expected; it was really very startling to see the normally-pale L vaguely resembling a lobster.

"Er…what time is it?"

L glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen, then resumed his typing and sipping of the over-sugared tea.

"It is four-thirty a.m." Mello faltered.

"But your hair's still wet—you just got out of the shower, and it couldn't've been later than-"

"One-thirty a.m."

"…So…you took a shower for-"

"Three hours, yes." L was speaking rather stiffly—it was making Mello uncomfortable, so he busied himself with eating a cookie from one of L's many plates.

"How are you doing?" L inquired conversationally of the screen. It took Mello a moment to realize L was addressing him.

"Well, it hurts rather a lot, but I don't care."

L blanched; Mello wrapped his arms around L's shoulders, resting his head on the crook of L's neck to read the screen in front of him. It looked like a journal of some sort.

"I knew it would," L muttered darkly. Mello just smiled.

"You know everything, L." He kissed the tip of L's ear and resumed the business of reading over his shoulder. Ordinarily he would have hesitated to ask L questions about his work—fearing that L would find him stupid and annoying—but he was feeling bolder now.

"What's that? Looks like the diary of someone really boring."

"THAT is a note written by the second Kira to the first Kira. It was sent after we replied, pretending to be Kira, and it undoubtedly contains hidden meaning." L frowned at it and rubbed his thumb over his teeth. "'Twenty-second May, two thousand three—My friend and I showed off our notebooks in Aoyama.' That has to be it, but-"

"You'll figure it out, L," Mello interrupted. "And I could help you do it, too. I mean, I think I could really-"

"You should go back to your bedroom now, Mello. In a building populated by aspiring detectives, it would not be prudent to have you leave my room, in pain, early in the morning."

Mello's jaw dropped at the sheer injustice. He was being KICKED OUT?

"But! You! You can't just-"

"Mello, PLEASE." As L turned again to look him in the eye, Mello saw that he looked more exhausted than normal—exhausted and exasperated and a little bit panicked. It wouldn't do to argue.

Mello put on his shirt, hung his head, and shuffled to the door, hoping to inspire sympathy and a change of heart. L was too distracted by his growing tower of marshmallow peeps to notice, however, so Mello quietly exited the room and ignored any pain he felt on his way to his and Matt's bedroom.

MATT! Mello hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. What if Matt was still awake? He wasn't supposed to tell anyone that L was here, but Matt had only JUST forgiven him, so he couldn't just waltz in with no good reason for having been gone for God-knows-how long. Mello pressed his ear against the door; there were no electronic beeps to signify that Matt was awake, at least.

He cautiously poked his head into the room and exhaled with relief when he saw that the lights were out and the vague outline of Matt's thoroughly-wrapped-up figure was lying down on his bed. Mello nonchalantly got under his own covers, pleased at having avoided getting caught—he'd just tell Matt he'd gotten back at midnight or so—when a very sad and bespectacled face popped in front of his. Mello clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself screaming.

"Don't DO that! Jesus!"

"Five in the morning, Mello. Do you know how long I was looking for you? Do you know how WORRIED I was?"

"Matt, you sound like someone's mum. Stop it." Mello rolled so that his back was facing Matt. "Now go away. 'M tired." Matt poked his spine sharply.

"No. Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with? Tell me. Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellme-"

"ALL RIGHT! Christ. I was-" Mello had no idea what to tell him. Perhaps, he thought, the best thing to do was tell Matt the truth. He wouldn't believe it, and Mello wouldn't have to feel guilty about lying. "I was having sex with L."

Matt pulled a face. "Mello, that's just gross. He's, like, ten years older than you. Seriously, tell me!"

"I WAS."

"No. L's in Japan working on the Kira case; he's not at Wammy's buggering unsuspecting young boys."

"Shows what YOU know." Matt just snorted derisively.

"I'VE already slept for a few hours—I have enough energy to keep up bothering you until dinnertime. You might as well tell me now."

"Just go to bed, Matt."

"Pft. You're bitchy when you've been out all night."

Mello was now torn between the desire to keep L's stay a secret, like he'd been instructed to do, and shocking Matt into amazed silence at his supreme maturity. Unable to see the irony, Mello chose the latter. He spun around to face Matt, surprising him and making him fall onto his bum on the floor.

"You know what? I'll PROVE it to you." Matt looked truly horrified.

"Mello, I don't know how you'd prove to me that you've been having sex, but I don't think I want to see-" Mello boxed his ears in response. "OW!"

"I'm going to prove to you that L's here. Now come on!" Mello grabbed Matt's wrist roughly, pulling him to his feet and out the door.

Matt was obviously uncomfortable with the idea of sneaking around to find L, but he was dreadfully curious, and Mello was giving him no choice. They rounded the corner that led to L's doors, but Mello hesitated. How the hell would he-

Ah. Mr Wammy. Mello unnecessarily placed a finger to his lips to signify to Matt that he should be quiet and crept up to the door next to L's. He hoped Matt understood what he was doing so he'd be able to react in time, but didn't see fit to warn him. It was more fun that way.

After a few moment's careful waiting, Mello rapped firmly on the door, then bolted behind the corner with his head just barely peeking around. Matt quickly scrambled to follow him and disappeared just in time—Mr Wammy emerged in his ridiculous dressing gown and night cap, his slippers haphazardly jammed onto his feet and his glasses askew.

"What the—you kids! Stupid miserable bleeding orphans." And he slammed the door behind him.

Mello turned triumphantly to Matt. Mr Wammy wouldn't be here if L weren't here, after all— therefore, this was solid proof.

Matt, however, did not seem to be quite as awed as Mello had hoped. Instead, his face was working furiously—he seemed to be struggling to either yell or cry.

"Did you REALLY?" he asked through clenched teeth. Mello didn't know how to respond. He had expected Matt to admire him for being so grown-up, and this particular reaction did not fit.

"Er…let's go back." Mello stood up quickly, making him wince slightly. Matt seemed to take this as confirmation, and he was clearly not pleased.

"Oh. My. God. You DID." He was making Mello feel like he needed a good scolding or something.

"Whatever. Can we talk about this in the room?" Matt glared and leapt to his feet before stomping, more loudly than Mello would have liked, back to their bedroom. Mello cautiously followed, worried that Matt would stop talking to him again. This was completely stupid! He shouldn't have to defend himself for doing something he'd wanted to do—yet Matt made him feel as if he needed to.

As soon as they were back in their room, Matt flopped onto his bed, looking fatigued and miserable. Mello sat next to him. Matt turned away.

"What the hell, Matt?"

"Nevermind. Just…Congratulations for your sex. Now leave me alone; I'm going to sleep."

"But you JUST SAID you weren't tired 'cos you've already slept-"

"I don't care what I said! I'm going to sleep!" Matt covered his head with his pillow. Mello ripped it away.

"What's your problem?"

Matt's chin quivered.

"I don't have a problem. You're seeing problems that aren't there. You should—you should see someone about that."

"Fine! If you don't wanna talk to me, I'll just go to bed!"

"Good!"

"Great!"

"Bloody fantastic."

"Fucking wonderful!"

Matt seemed to understand that Mello needed to have the last word, so he simply put his head back under the pillow and was snoring within minutes. Mello smiled; Matt had probably just been tired and cranky, bless him.


	7. Chapter 7

Mello awoke with the distinct sense of life being completely perfect. He yawned and stretched contentedly, bellowing a "GOOD MORNING!" at Matt, who mumbled something about nothing being good ever before picking a wedgie and rolling over.

Not disheartened by this in the slightest, Mello picked up a calculus textbook and began to work all of the practice problems--there was to be a test in about a week, and he would DEFINITELY beat Near THIS time. For Near was a mere child--immature and petulant, not learned in the ways of the world as Mello was.

Matt slowly woke up, taking about an hour of expelling gasses in every way he could think of and rubbing his eyes blearily. When he saw what Mello was up to, he made an exasperated sound and rolled his eyes.

"That test isn't for another week and a half! Come on, I wanna play something."

Mello sighed, placing his pencil inside the book and closing it.

"Like what?" Matt shrugged simply.

"I dunno." After a few seconds of careful pondering, his entire face lit up. "Double-O seven!"

Mello didn't want to betray how excited he was at the idea of playing a James Bond video game (the guns! the shooting! the outfits!), but his frightening grin of pure elation gave him away.

They played well into the afternoon, eating from Mello's chocolate stash sporadically and screaming in anguish when poorly-rendered blood inevitably filled the screen.

At four-thirty, however, Mello happened to glance at his nightstand clock. He carefully put up the controller, ignoring with some difficulty the screams coming from his character, who had been left at the mercy of Matt. Satisfied by the carnage he had caused, Matt shot Mello a look of incredulity.

"What the HELL are you doing? You just LET me beat you!"

Mello flicked his hair back in imitation of casualness. "I've got stuff to do." Matt narrowed his eyes.

"That's what you said before, and then you were gone for a long-" he cut himself off, eyes widening and nose curling. "You're not...you're not going to-" Mello shrugged.

"I don't know. It depends, I guess." Ignoring Matt's stammers of protest, he left their room and made his way to L's, knocking confidently and smiling when Mr Wammy opened the door.

"L, Mello is here."

"Just a minute, please." Watari smiled at Mello and went off down the hallway, presumably to do very important things. Mello had the idea of saying something polite to him, but he became distracted when he heard what sounded rather like furniture being moved. What on EARTH was L doing?

"All right, you may come in now." Mello started a bit when he entered the room and saw that L had, in fact, been moving furniture. His chair was against the back wall, and three tables formed a sort of blockade around him. These were covered with plates of food, papers, computers--the usual--as well as several pillows and what looked like couch cushions covered in bed-sheets.

"You sit there." L gestured toward a comfy chair on the opposite side of the room. Mello scowled.

"Why did you build yourself a FORT?"

"It is better to be overly-prepared than unprepared," L said sagely. "It is best, I think, that we stay on opposite sides of this room. That way, there shall be no repeat of last night's...incident."

Mello's head suddenly felt very hot. He could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears. Everything seemed mildly blurred. His hands twitched.

"...Incident?"

"Yes. Incident."

"If you fell down the stairs, that would be an INCIDENT." L blinked and murmured a quiet "Oh, dear".

"If you got in a fight with somebody, that would be an INCIDENT. Last night was not. A fucking. INCIDENT!" Mello lunged at the tables and knocked over a bowl of candy, causing L to jump in alarm and give Mello a stern look.

"Well, I hardly think THAT was necessary!" Mello responded by picking up a piece of candy and chucking it at L's forehead. "Look, Mello--I don't like to disappoint you, but I need to set some sort of boundary. We can't be together."

"You can't--you can't do that!"

"What, exactly, can't I do?"

"You can't just...You can't DO this to me!" Mello punctuated himself by stomping his foot periodically in an excellent, if unintended, imitation of a two-year-old.

"You have to see that you're being overdramatic."

"Am not! You're being...you're being EVIL! I can't believe you're DOING this to me!"

"Mello, I haven't done ANYTHING to you. Look, why don't you sit down and we can talk this out." Mello glared up at him.

"Is the conclusion of that talk going to be that you slept with me even though you don't want to be with me?"

L said nothing.

"...Fine," said Mello slowly, backing into L's bathroom.

"Mello?" L sounded deeply concerned. "What are you doing?"

"Why should I tell YOU? 'S not like you care!" He slammed the door behind him and heard L scrambling to escape his own barricade as he dug through the drawers frantically, looking for L's razor. Surely he HAD one...ah. There.

Mello shook quite a bit as he rolled up his left sleeve; L flung the door open and looked in horror at the scene before him.

"Mello, please don't do that. It would not be very--oh, no." Mello had lifted the razor and swung down as hard as he could at his forearm.

He immediately felt both very afraid and very stupid. There was quite a bit more blood than he felt he had signed on for, and the pain was causing his eyes to water again. It was working, though: L was distraughtly looking about for something to put over the cut, and he had grabbed Mello's right hand in his on, presumably to stop him from hurting himself again. Though Mello was quite pleased that his impromptu plan had gone so swimmingly, L seemed close to tears; he was repeating Mello's name sadly under his breath--this was more emotion than Mello had ever seen him display, in fact.

L found a washcloth and roughly tied it around Mello's arm. Satisfied with this, he crouched over even more than usual, so that he was at Mello's eye-level.

"Don't do that."

"I went horizontally, not vertically. I wouldn't've died or anything."

"If you blindly hack at yourself, the direction doesn't really have much to do with it." L covered his face with one hand, keeping the other firmly attached to Mello's wrist. "I suppose that was MY fault, was it? Driven you to acts of self-harm, have I?" Mello nodded furiously.

"Damn right it's your fault! Now let go of me!" He struggled pointlessly against L's strong grip, twisting and pulling and only succeeding in gaining what would probably turn into a bruise.

"I am not about to let go of you if you intend to hurt yourself. Promise me you're not going to." L's eyes widened, giving the sense that he would be able to detect any falsification.

"I promise," Mello answered carefully, trying to prevent any hints of deceit he may have been projecting. L slowly let go, his body language clearly indicating that he would latch back onto Mello should he give any signs of lifting the razor again.

"Now put that down. On the counter." L watched as Mello obeyed. "Right. Now we are going to go back to my room," L pointed firmly at the door. "And we are going to discuss this. Using our words." He slouched out, waited for Mello to follow, and raised an eyebrow when he plopped himself casually onto the bed.

"What? I wanna be comfortable while you devastate me." L gave Mello a dark look and perched next to him.

"Mello, you have to stop speaking with the clear intention of guilting me. I will not be emotionally blackmailed."

"Not emotionally, huh? Hm. That's all right. I trust you remember our, ahem, conversation yesterday?"

L nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"You know, the one where you were telling me how it was 'implausible' because," Mello leaned forward for emphasis, causing L to lean back in response. "It's illegal."

"So is blackmail."

"Ah, but there are different levels of crime. I think statutory rape is a little worse than BLACKMAIL, don't you?"

L's upper lip was curled with disdain and disbelief. He was exhaling in indignant spurts, clearly struggling to find words to describe how appalled he was.

"Oh, I'm just kidding, L." Mello nuzzled L's shoulder. He stiffened in response.

"You are clearly not kidding. You have made it clear that you are not above threatening me and now, having said your piece, you are returning to the state of things so that I can make a decision based on the new information. You are also not fooling anybody."

"Mmm. I love you, L." L forced a laugh.

"If you think what you feel is love, Mello, you are VERY much mistaken..."

"Oh, and I suppose you think YOU know all about love?" L looked him directly in the eye.

"I know that when somebody loves somebody else, he would not blackmail the other party into being with him. I know that when two people love each other, it is a mutual and cooperative relationship. I know-"

"Mutual and cooperative. Because you didn't cooperate at ALL." Mello chuckled. "What happened to being asexual, by the way?" L's cheeks coloured, but he gave no other indication of embarrassment.

"I am going to explain this as clearly as possible. I do not actively crave romantic interactions. This does not mean that I cannot enjoy them, nor does it mean that I am immune to sheer friction."

"And now I am going to explain as clearly as possible. You can enjoy them, so why don't you?" L began to speak, but Mello raised a hand. "I know, I know, you don't 'actively crave' anything. But if you're CAPABLE of enjoying a relationship, and it'll keep ME appeased, why don't you just go the easiest route?"

"Morality."

"Morality didn't stop you taking the virginity of a fourteen-year-old boy, now did it?"

L made as if to speak, but was could find no defense and instead mumbled something about Mello's reasoning skills under his breath.

"Yeah." Mello snuggled up to L, who seemed too shocked to do anything. "So..." he licked the shell of L's ear, eliciting a sigh.

"Fine." Mello's eyes widened.

"Wh-fi-what? Really?"

"There's no need to sound so incredulous. You haven't left me with much choice."

"Well, yeah, but...but I thought-" L shook his head dismissively and, to Mello's complete shock, kissed him.

"What was THAT for?" L gave him a blank look.

"That was a kiss. I trust you know what those are for." Mello smiled bewilderedly.

"Well, I--do...do you want...to..."

"Mello, you are making this very awkward. I want you to be happy. What I might want for myself does not enter into it."

"Well THAT certainly makes things easier."

"Yes, it rather does," said L emotionlessly.

Mello bit his lip thoughtfully, then pushed L over--not a difficult feat, considering the way he was perched. L let out a small 'oof' of surprise before he was straddled and kissed rather brutally. L soon regained his composure, however, and sat back up, pulling Mello's shirt down off his shoulder and kissing the exposed skin in a startlingly tender manner.

"Mm, L, what're you doing?"

"There is no sense in being passive if I've agreed to this."

Mello's stomach gave a pleasing leap as L laid him down and licked at his neck. He had the sneaking suspicion that L was pretending he was some sort of candy, but it felt VERY nice anyway. L snuck a hand up the tight-fitting shirt and ran it lingeringly over Mello's warm skin. He smiled a little and slid a finger over Mello's lips; Mello nipped at it, then gasped when he felt the other hand slip into his jeans.

"Holy shit." L made a vague sound of confirmation and continued, tugging Mello's pants down and his shirt up--Mello lifted his arms so that the shirt came off completely then wrapped them around L's shoulders, digging his nails into L's shirt perhaps a bit too firmly and engendering a small grunt of discomfort.

L's fingers were moving slowly--slower than Mello would have liked--but a familiar pressure was building up nonetheless...then, quite suddenly, L stopped. Mello stammered loudly in protest, then quieted when L placed a finger over Mello's mouth to shush him. He watched, first in disbelieving indignance, then in equally disbelieving joy, as L lowered his face until he was even with Mello's hips, and-

OhholyJesusMarialovingGodalmightyfuck

L had the most talented tongue Mello had ever encountered. L was DEFINITELY pretending he was food now, though--Mello was certain he had seen him treat an ice cream cone in the exact same manner many, many times before. Lucky mother-fucking ice cream. Mello completely forgot to give L any sort of warning, but, he noticed, as he panted to catch his breath, L was not scolding him as Matt would have. How odd. Mello opened one eye and was very surprised to see that L wasn't spitting on anything or wiping his tongue on the sheets--he was simply, calmly, rubbing at the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"Did...you..." L looked up.

"Did I what?"

"Did you SWALLOW that?" L furrowed his brow.

"Yes." Mello nearly fainted.

"That...that's HOT, L." L responded by procuring a Jolly Rancher from under his pillow and popping it into his mouth. He smiled awkwardly as Mello stared at his lips in fascination.

"Mello," he said rather suddenly. "May I kiss you?" Mello threw his head back and laughed.

"L, you can do whatever the fuck you want to do to me."

"Good." L leaned in--eyes half-closed--and pressed his lips against Mello's. Mello wound his fingers into L's hair and pulled him closer; he tasted of strawberry candy, and it was highly pleasant. He wrapped his legs around L's waist and brought their hips together, and sweet, L was definitely aroused. He was breathing quite hard in Mello's ear, taking deep, shuddering gulps of air and exhaling them slowly.

"L, please," Mello whispered. "Please, L, can we fuck now?"

L nodded feverishly and laughed a bit, leaning down to reach the same bottle of lotion from the previous night.

"Er...that's still there?" L gave Mello a blank look.

"I have been very busy, and moving it was not a pressing matter."

"Well THAT'S convenient."

"...Shush, now." Mello pouted a little at having been told to shut up, but he wasn't going to complain. What was the point in complaining when he was half-naked and on L's bed? And L was COOPERATING because Mello was brilliant, so this was all going very well indeed.

He felt L's hands sliding down his thighs, pushing the rough denim down around his knees. Mello kicked them off and there was L's hand again, this time at his knee, bending it up to his chest. It tickled a little, having L's hand on the underside of his knee like that, which concerned Mello slightly--he didn't WANT to be tickled--but then he found the anticipation too much to continue feeling concern.

The sounds of L's zipper and the snap of the bottle seemed muffled somehow. Almost unreal. Those sounds were of no consequence to Mello--all that mattered was that L was spreading his legs further apart with his knees and licking him all over, that L had one hand rubbing against him, that the fingers of L's other hand were inside him again and it surprised him because he needed this, he really needed this, and L knew it, too--he whimpered a little as he felt L begin to press up against him.

And then, quite suddenly, everything was once again horribly wrong. Mello had not, in all honesty, expected it to hurt so much AGAIN--wasn't that a first-time sort of thing? Shouldn't it at least hurt significantly LESS this time? And because the pain was unexpected, he had not been prepared to stifle the subsequent yelp.

L clapped a hand over Mello's mouth and looked down at him, horrified. He turned his head slowly to look at the door. It took Mello a moment to comprehend that he was hearing footsteps, and then a soft knock.

"Are you all right?" Mr Wammy's voice, though relatively quiet, seemed to ring in the air. L cleared his throat.

"Yes, Watari. Everything is fine." Once it was clear that he had gone, L uncovered Mello's mouth.

"I am going to have to ask you to not do that again."

Mello felt very indignant and opened his mouth to reply (he wasn't quite sure how--it would come to him, presumably), but L had already begun to move again, and all he could say was something to the effect of "nnngyuh". L responded with his own incomprehensible fusion of random syllables, and it struck Mello as absurd that two of the cleverest people in the world were making such sounds.

However, he did not dwell on this as there was the slightly more important matter of the jolts of almost-evenly mixed discomfort and gratification and the building pressure in his abdomen. Mello looked up at L's face and was dismayed to see that he looked almost ANGRY. Well THAT was odd...

Though, come to think of it, L hadn't bothered apologising this time, had he? Probably because Mello had cleverly convinced him that this was for the best. Unless L was just using him...but L wouldn't do that. Would he? Why would he be angry?

The slight twinge these thoughts were creating in Mello's chest was very quickly replaced by an intense relief from the strain Mello hadn't entirely realised he'd had, and the prolactin he knew was surging through his blood made it very nearly impossible to think about anything remotely complicated. He sighed contentedly as he felt L pull away from him and giggled a little out of giddy exhaustion.

L rolled off of the bed but caught himself on his feet in a crouch, zipping his jeans up as he stood up and stretched. Mello pulled a face at him.

"You're weird." L simply shrugged and tossed Mello's clothes at him. Mello half-heartedly pulled them on and kicked the covers around until he had settled himself satisfactorily.

"Sleeping here, are you?" Mello mumbled that yes, he was, and rolled over, already essentially lost to sleep.

"I love you, L," said Mello quietly before beginning to snore with his mouth open.

"...Mm." It was pointless, L reasoned, to bother lying to someone who was already asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Mello woke up feeling very cold and very alone. He looked around and was surprised to see that he was not in L's room, as he had anticipated, nor was he in his own room. No. He was in what he recognized from brief glimpses as NEAR'S room--white and surgically clean with bins upon bins of toys.

Just as he was about to leave, Near stepped out of his closet, wearing his standard outfit, except--

"Near, where are your trousers?" Near shot him a sultry look.

"I won't be needing them," he said, smirking. Mello suddenly became extremely nervous. He did not like where this was going AT ALL.

"Put--put your pants back...on..." But Near was slowly unbuttoning his shirt and stepping closer, revealing lacy white panties. No no no no no!

"How did I get here?!" Mello demanded, but Near simply ignored him.

"Where's L?"

"Oh, he's gone," Near purred, batting his largely-invisible eyelashes.

"And Matt?" Near giggled.

"He's gone, too. Nobody can hear you but me." Near sauntered up to Mello and pushed their hips together, which alerted Mello to his own nakedness. Aw, shit. "I want you, Mello" he whispered. "I have since we first met." Mello squinted at him.

"When we first met, I was seven and you were five." Near chuckled sensually.

"Lust knows no age."

"It does when you're FIVE."

"Oh, Mello," Near sighed, casting aside his unbuttoned shirt. "Don't be like that. We don't need words for this." Near shoved Mello onto his bed and sat atop his lap, gyrating in a most obscene fashion.

"Errgeeeehbah," stated Mello, horrified to see that his body was no longer heeding him. He felt himself push Near onto his hands and knees, tearing off the panties and NO NO NO NO NO!

"Take me now, Mello," moaned Near in an un-Nearlike sort of way. Mello tried his damnedest to shout "NO!" but instead, the word transformed itself into a breathy cry of "Near!"

Why? What had he done to deserve-

Shrill laughter pervaded Mello's mind. He wriggled experimentally and found himself in his own bed, with Matt standing above him and laughing so hard that he was being showered in a fine spray of spittle.

"Mmmmatt. Woss goin' on?" he inquired uncomprehendingly. Matt doubled over.

"Pssshh! Ha ha ha ha ha! Hee hee! Hoo hoo! N-n-NEAR! Ha HA!" Mello felt himself turn red.

"Wha- What about Near?" Matt wiped a tear of mirth from his eye.

"You were MOANING in your SLEEP! I kinda figured it was about L, but then...you..." Matt burst out into a fresh set of giggles. "NEAR!" Mello pouted and waited for the laughing to cease. It didn't seem like it would anytime soon.

"How did I get back here, anyway?" asked Mello so as to change the subject. Subtly.

"L carried you back while you were sleeping." Matt paused thoughtfully. "That guy is really strong. You probably weigh, like, a jillion pounds 'cos you eat so much."

Mello would have struck Matt, but he was too perturbed by the idea that L had forfeited his privacy just to get him out of his room.

"He looked pretty miserable, you know."

"The hell?"

"He tucked you in and stuff...and I think he, like, kissed your forehead. It was weird. But then he was walking away and he looked really fucking miserable. I bet he's guilty. He probably feels like a pedo."

"WHAT?"

"I said, 'I bet he's guilty'. It's not a difficult concep-"

"Matt, stop talking about shit you don't understand." Matt rolled his eyes.

"I didn't say he WAS. Jesus. You're so...high-strung." Mello tutted.

"Well if he's MISERABLE I should go cheer him up." Mello leapt out of his bed and sauntered out the door, leaving Matt feeling rather defeated, all-in-all.


	9. Chapter 9

Mello propped himself up on his elbows and grinned rather wickedly at L, who was reclining with one arm flung over his eyes. L was muttering something about not knowing how this had happened AGAIN, but he had a half-smile on his face--it occurred to Mello that this was probably due to an afterglow, but he preferred to take it as evidence that Matt was a stupid little boy who didn't know anything about anybody. L was most certainly not miserable.

"Say, L?"

"Mmm?"

"You know, Matt said the funniest thing today." Mello forced a quiet chuckle. "He said--oh, it was so stupid-"

"Mello," said L, clearly concerned. "If Matt is saying stupid things, you should not find them funny, but rather be concerned for him. If he is third place, and is saying stupid things nevertheless, there must be something wrong. You should ask him about it instead of laughing. It is a serious-"

"Whatever." Mello waved a hand. "Not stupid stupid, just...um...silly. Anyway. He said that you...that you...thatyou'remiserableandguilty. HA HA HA HA HA!" Mello stopped laughing abruptly and leaned in towards L's face, his eyes wide and frightened. "Are you?"

"That I'm miserable and guilty, was that what you said?" Mello blinked by way of response. "Well," said L slowly. "I wouldn't say that I'm miserable. ...Saturnine, perhaps..."

Mello's face fell. "L! That means the same thing!"

"Aha, not quite. Miserable, you see, means 'wretchedly unhappy', whereas saturnine means 'glum' or 'downcast'. One is stronger than the other."

"Well...but...not saturnine and GUILTY, right?" L looked deeply confused.

"You know I feel guilty, Mello. You exploited that fact for your own benefit, if you remember."

So. Matt wasn't a stupid little boy. He was an astute little boy, and this changed things. Mello's eyes were beginning to hurt again.

"If you hate me so much, why did you, not half an hour ago-"

"We have been OVER this, Mello. I do NOT hate you. I've decided that appeasing you was the best course of action partly because I love you. In the protective sort of way," L qualified quickly. "Like an older brother." Mello wrinkled his nose.

"L, that would be INCEST." L, realizing his mistake, made soothing shushing noises. But Mello would not be so easily distracted. "...but..." Mello couldn't think of anything better to say. L was looking at him expectantly, but all he could think about was how crap everything in the WORLD was. L sighed and sat up.

"Mello, I have work to do. You should go back to your room now, all right?" Mello nodded glumly and went about the process of locating his clothing.

He didn't really want to leave, when it came down to it, and so he hugged L for about a minute before he was coughed at until he left the room and went to his own as he had been told.

When Mello snuck back to his bedroom, he was startled to find that Matt was there and pushing the buttons on his beloved Game Boy with so much force that Mello was surprised it wasn't broken yet.

"Um. Hey, Matt. What're you doing in here? Don't you have a class today?"

"You have classes too, and you're still here. Don't exactly have any room to talk, now do you?"

"Christ, Matt, what's your problem? I was in L's-"

"L! Fucking L! Can you talk about anyone else? Ever?!" Matt leapt up from his bed and threw his Game Boy onto his pillow. He gave the distinct impression of having wanted to say this for quite some time, so Mello remained silent. "I'm sick of hearing about L!" He adopted a scrunched-up face, fluttered his eyelashes, and raised his voice an octave. "Oh, Matty! L said the cleverest thing today, and then he let me suck him off—it was so magical, Matty!" Matt's face was beginning to turn purple. "Well I don't want to hear it! And you know what? L probably doesn't even like you! He's probably just letting you be with him because it's easier than arguing with you 'cos you're such a bitch!"

"Oh, fuck you! I bet you're just jealous because I'm involved in a mature relationship and you aren't! You just wish you could be with L!" Mello had to clench his teeth to keep his voice steady. He couldn't let Matt see that he had touched a nerve. "Or maybe you wish you could be with me—is that it? Is it? Are you really so pathetic that you can't just let go?! It's not like we were ever really dating, Matt!"

Matt's lower lip quivered with inexpressible anger. "The hell I want you! Who would?! You're just a spoiled cunt with an over-inflated ego and a fucking awful temper! Hell, I'd rather have Near! At least he isn't fucking a twenty-four-year-old who doesn't love him and never will, by the way!"

Mello couldn't see properly anymore; everything seemed blurred somehow, and he was positively trembling with rage.

"Why the HELL are you bringing NEAR into this? He has nothing to do with ANYTHING, unless you think this somehow makes him BETTER than me!"

Matt obviously knew he was in dangerous territory, but he didn't seem to care. He moved close to Mello so that their noses were almost touching. "Yes. Near is better than you, Mello. But you'll never understand that because you're too. Fucking. Stupid."

Matt was on the floor in a second, with a rabid Mello punching and clawing and scratching and kicking at every bit of Matt he could find. He grabbed Matt's shoulders, slammed against the ground with a sickening crack, and pushed him as hard as he could so that Matt's waist collided with the sharp edge of the dresser.

"Jesus fuck, Mello! You're completely mad!" Matt kicked up as hard as he could and managed to connect with Mello's shin. When Mello lost his balance, Matt took the opportunity to grab the textbook on Mello's nightstand and hit him on the nose with it. Mello retaliated by jabbing his elbow in Matt's face.

They both stopped when they heard a crunch.

"Great. You broke my fucking glasses. Nice going, asshole!"

"Whatever. They looked stupid on your stupid face, anyway."

Matt rubbed the back of his head, looked at his hand, and swayed slightly when he saw that it was covered in blood.

"God damn it. You're such a bitch. I'm going to the infirmary." And he stomped out of the room, leaving Mello to wipe his own bloody wounds and seethe.

A few seconds later, Mello heard a light tapping on the door. Probably Matt, begging for forgiveness or something. He deserved nothing less than a thorough ignoring. Mello leapt into his bed and pulled the covers over himself, forming a Cocoon of Isolation.

The tapping persisted. Why the hell didn't Matt just open the door? Fucktard.

The door slowly creaked open and Mello heard soft footsteps creep close to him—

Matt's footsteps were not soft. Matt did not creep. What the fuck?

A small finger gingerly poked Mello's shoulder through the thick comforter.

"Mello? Are you in there?"

Mello shoved the blankets down and glared up at Near's concerned face.

"No, Near. I'm a figment of your imagination. You're schizophrenic. Kill yourself."

Near chose to ignore this.

"I heard you and Matt fighting, so I decided to make sure you weren't comatose. I think it's a valid concern, considering what I saw of Matt when he left."

"Do you honestly have nothing better to do than to listen to other people's arguments?"

"Do you honestly feel the need to resolve said arguments with physical violence, like some sort of child?"

Mello began to raise his fist in anger, then realised the irony and put his arm back under the covers with a scowl. Near smiled smugly.

"There you go. You really ought to go to the infirmary. Your nose is bleeding." Near tapped his own nose to demonstrate this. Mello forcefully wiped his face with the back of his hand and immediately regretted it.

"Ow!"

"You have a bruise there."

"No shit! How'd you figure that one out, genius?"

"There is an irregularly-shaped purple blotch in that area, and your actions just now suggest that it is also tender. It's really not that difficult to-"

"Shut up and get out of my room."


	10. Chapter 10

The knock came very unexpectedly--not that L liked to admit that he hadn't expected something. It was better to pretend like he'd known all along; that way, his opponent (victim?) would be the one who was wrong-footed and not he. And so, as Watari dutifully went to answer the door, L continued holding a paper in one hand and his coffee in the other, inspecting them both carefully and not bothering to turn around. He bet he could figure out who it was anyway: if the knock had been loud and with no discernible rhythm, it was Mello. If it was steady and firm, it was Roger. If it was a bit hesitant, it was a maid. This knock, however, was simultaneously soft and determined.

"Near would like to see you, L." L smiled a little at this. Of course. He turned in his chair, clutching the back and peering over his knees as Near was shown in. Watari shot L a nervous glance, but then he exited respectfully, and Near sat down on the floor across from L, fiddling with the carpet fibers.

L thought it might be interesting to not say anything and see what Near did. How would he respond? So he stared owlishly, waiting. Near continued to play with the carpet, fluffing it and twisting it determinedly.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, then Near, having decided his purpose was more important than this informal competition, spoke.

"I hope you don't think you've been subtle." L's mind began racing--searching quickly for the correct answer. What could he be talking about? Oh. It must be that. Yes. Near was very clever, wasn't he?

"I don't." Near kept his head down and looked up at L through his fringe in a rather dramatic way. He clearly felt strongly about _something_.

"And I hope you don't think you're above the law, either." L had to chuckle at that.

"Near, I _am_ above the law. I don't intend to exploit that fact, but you can't possibly think I'll be held to the same standards as everyone else. It's not fair, but that's how it is." Near's cheeks tinged slightly.

"The fact that you can manipulate law _enforcement_ does not make you above the standards of the law. You're still a criminal, whether you'll be held accountable or not." L wanted to smile at Near, but he stopped himself, recognising Near's need for formality. He twisted his chair around so that he could face him properly and clambered back into it, resisting the urge to offer cake that he knew would be refused.

"If you don't mind, will you tell me how, exactly, you came to the conclusion I assume you've reached?"

"It was easy enough that it doesn't constitute any bearing on my ability to become your successor, so there isn't much point in your asking."

"Humour me, please." Near sighed heavily and began to speak in a rehearsed sort of monotone.

"On Friday, Mello tripped over me on his way into the library. I was curious as to why he was rushing, so I looked over his shoulder once he'd been working for a few minutes. On his paper was what were quite clearly plans for something. These plans centred around candy, mostly, as well as some truly ridiculous traps. I had just been to see you, so I knew that Mello knew that you were here, and you're the only person I can think of who could potentially fall prey to a candy-themed ruse. These plans, and Mello's defensiveness about them, piqued my curiosity.

"Later that evening, I walked past your room to see if Mello was there. Mr Wammy was standing outside, so I hid from him since I knew he would tell you if I asked anything. After about half an hour, he went to his own room. I went up to the door, intending to put my ear to it and maybe peek underneath it, but then I heard-" Near hesitated, flushing. L, in response, paled.

"I can guess. Go on." Near nodded, almost gratefully, and his face resumed its normal pale color as he focused instead on his task.

"On Saturday night, I saw you carrying Mello back to his and Matt's room. I was very surprised, I have to admit--I assumed you would have been more careful, especially considering you didn't want anyone to know you were here..."

"I don't want any children to know I'm here because I need to work. If one or two spot me late at night, there might be rumors, but there will not be a flood of children entering my room freely. Hovering outside it, perhaps, but not disturbing me."

"Fine. But I saw you, and I would have to be an idiot to have not realised then what was going on between you two. As if that weren't enough, Mello and Matt got into a physical fight that night. They throw punches regularly, but they were both bleeding quite a lot. It must have been pretty emotionally-charged. I'm guessing it was because Matt is extremely jealous but doesn't know how to express himself properly."

"Good, Near." L smiled proudly, unable to help himself.

"Don't. Just...don't." L's smile faded. "I don't want you to be proud of me discovering...what you've been doing. I just can't BELIEVE you. Mello is FOURTEEN, L. He doesn't know what he wants."

"And you are twelve. You can't be considered an expert in development, Near."

"Ad hominem," Near grumbled. "If you're going to refute me, attack what I've said and not who I am. Please," he added as an afterthought.

"You're right. I'm sorry." Near looked surprised at this admission, but didn't see fit to meet L's eye. "So what makes you think Mello doesn't know what he wants?" Near snorted.

"He _thinks_ he knows what he wants because he thinks he knows _everything_. He just wants to impress you. He thinks that if he makes you like him, you'll make him L instead of me. He's only interested in winning."

L raised a finger to object. "Your phrasing makes me think you are under the impression that I coerced Mello into a relationship for my own ephebophiliac desires."

Near nodded slowly, a bit confused.

"Actually, it was Mello who initiated it. I was against it, in fact, until he...convinced me that it was in everyone's best interest." Near's eyes widened and snapped to L's. His mouth dropped very slightly, just enough to make his teeth look silly, and L thought he might have seen his lower eyelid twitch.

"You...you...you're just humouring him because it's easiest for you?"

"Well, I wouldn't say tha-"

"You are. You're leading him on because you can and it'll keep him content enough to leave you alone. You pretend to be a strict follower of justice until it becomes _inconvenient_ for you, and then it's all in _everyone's best interest_. I'm not stupid. He threatened you, didn't he? Statutory rape if you didn't cooperate, I bet. That makes you a coward. A coward and a criminal. And you have an entire orphanage filled with kids who want to _be_ you--they aspire to be exactly like you because they think they know who you are, but they don't really. Well, I do. I know you're not above abandoning your morals. You're not above much, really." Near wasn't shouting--his voice was quiet as ever--but it shook with the anger and betrayal that Near couldn't bring himself to express fully.

L picked up on it nevertheless. It was true, after all. He _wasn't_ above much, when he thought about it. But, save for this unfortunate business, all he did was in the name of justice. He couldn't bring himself to defend his morality, though. He felt like scum. Near thought he was scum. Wait, did that-

L looked at Near, a bit frightened. "Near, please tell me you wouldn't refuse to be L because-"

"Of course not. You're a brilliant detective, L. If I can become half of what you are now, I'll _still_ be the greatest detective in the world. I admire you greatly as a detective. As a person, though--not so much. I rather detest you."

L was surprised by how much those words stung.

"…Near, you're being surprisingly emotional. Why are you so concerned?"

Near shot L a deer-in-the-headlights look and his face turned pink. "Well, I-I feel betrayed. And…I care about Mello. You're mistreating him."

"You really have no reason to be concerned about Mello. He hates you." Near nodded at his knees.

"I don't hate him back, though. I can't hate him." He looked like he had been badly sunburnt, poor kid.

L strongly felt that he should say something wise. Something sage. Something to comfort Near and make him think well of him.

But he didn't.

He watched Near glare a final time, then shuffle out, snapping the door shut with an air of finality.


	11. Chapter 11

Mello hadn't been able to fall asleep easily, so when Roger woke him up at noon, he was neither pleased nor amused.

"What the HELL, Roger? It's SUNDAY. I'm ALLOWED to sleep in!" Mello wanted to cry out of exhaustion and frustration. Stupid old man. It was a _sin_ to wake up a fourteen-year-old boy on a Sunday afternoon-- hadn't he gone to church as a child?

Roger coughed in a dignified way. "Mello, this is _important_." He leaned down to whisper in Mello's ear. "_L needs to see you_."

Life seemed much better, suddenly. Mello tried to blow his fringe out of his eyes, succeeding only in getting a bit of hair in his mouth and some saliva on his nose.

"Did he say when? Now? Right? Does he wanna see me now? Wossit about?"

"Look, _I don't know_. I didn't ask. Just put on something other than pyjamas and do as you're told." Roger left in a huff. (Jealousy, Mello supposed.)

Mello stared at L. L stared at his own toes.

They continued in this fashion for several moments.

Mello was not a very patient boy, and he really wanted to tell L to either get on with it or give him some chocolate, but that would be rude and not the way to get any. And so he sat there, staring, until finally L decided to explain himself.

"I had a chat with Near earlier today."

"Really?" asked Mello in a terrible imitation of casualness. "And what did this chat concern?" L looked up at Mello, much to his relief. He was beginning to feel neglected.

"Our...er...'relationship'." _Shit_.

"What did he want? What does he know? How did he find out?"

"Near," said L solemnly, "intends to become a detective. He had a hunch, he looked for clues, he put them together, and he came to a solution. He knows what's going on, and what he wants is for this to have never happened, I think."

"'S none of his business," Mello grumbled.

"Mello, he's concerned about you. He cares about your well-being. He feared that I was taking advantage of you." Mello snorted.

"I'm not a five-year-old _girl_."

"No, but you are a fourteen-year-old boy, and I'm afraid to say that, in terms of taking advantage, you're really not much better off."

"That's nice how you're being mean when I'm distressed, here. Real thoughtful." Mello pouted, got up, and ate a chocolate doughnut. L spluttered a little in protest, but didn't have the heart to take a pastry from a child. "Er, say, L?"

L whimpered, eyeing the doughnut mournfully.

"Just 'cos Near knows about us doesn't mean..."

"He does not intend to take any sort of action beyond confronting me, if that is what you are asking." Mello sighed audibly with relief.

"Well, _that's_ good. 'Cos I'm really happy, you know? Being with you and all." L suddenly looked down at his toes again.

"Yes, well. I'm glad you're happy, Mello, but I'm afraid I have some bad news..."

"Damn it, L! What?"

"I'm leaving today." Mello snickered.

"Okay, seriously. There's no way you're leaving TODAY. That's stupid."

"How is that stupid?" L looked genuinely curious.

"BECAUSE," Mello said, rolling his eyes, "You...you...would've said something earlier."

"Well, yes, that would have been the decent thing to do, but that would only work if I myself knew exactly when it would become necessary for me to return to Japan."

Mello stopped licking the chocolate frosting off of his fingers, dropped his arms to his sides, and stared straight ahead. He couldn't look at L, so instead he looked at a spot on the wall visible just over L's right shoulder. It looked a little like an elephant, if elephants had three ears and no legs. But it was starting to blur.

He had only JUST said he was happy, hadn't he? He was HAPPY to FINALLY be with L... Matt was being a prick, but other than that, everything had been going so swimmingly, and when L left...

When L left, things would be back to normal. He wouldn't have someone to come back to every night, someone who made him feel loved and wanted and special. When he talked, even if it was about something stupid, L listened--he REALLY listened. Or at least he was REALLY good at pretending. L valued Mello's thoughts; Mello valued L's thoughts. Their relationship was everything Mello had wanted and needed so desperately, and NOW--now L was ruining it.

Because L's work was more important than Mello.

"Now, Mello, you knew I was going to have to leave eventually." L was speaking like he would to an upset toddler. Mello shook his head and was infuriated by the tears that were beginning to fall. "Oh...come here." L gestured toward himself. Mello hopped over into L's lap, wrapped his arms around his neck, and sniffled into his shoulder while L patted his head awkwardly.

"L! I don't want you to go!"

"But I _need_ to go."

"But I don't _want_ you to go!" Mello wiped his nose on his sleeve and hiccuped.

"Well, it isn't really up to you. Chocolate?" L produced a bar of German chocolate from between his chair and its cushion, baring his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a winning grin but was more frightening than anything.

"You SUCK." He took the chocolate nevertheless. The corners of L's mouth twitched at the accusation, but he wisely remained silent.

"No," said Mello suddenly.

"Beg pardon?"

"You're not going. I've said." Mello clutched at L's shirt determinedly, frowning to show he meant business.

"I'm afraid neither you nor I have control over this situation."

"Well TAKE control! You're L!"

"This is bigger than me, Mello. This is about the deaths of thousands of criminals. This is about the safety of innocent people. This is about JUSTICE."

"Could you ignore your hard-on for justice for just a few days and think about what I need?" L looked scandalized.

"No, I can NOT ignore…ignore JUSTICE and pay attention to you instead. Do you appreciate how childish you're being? You want me to let people die so that you can get fellatio and chocolates?"

This was exactly what Mello wanted, but L was making it sound positively unreasonable.

"Look, I know that Interpol need your help on the Kira case. But would Kira suddenly decide to…I don't know, bomb Russia or something just because you're in Winchester and not Kanto?"

"That comparison is not equal. Kanto is a region while Winchester is a city. It would be more accurate to say 'you're in Hampshire and not Kanto'."

"Look, whatever. My point is that it wouldn't be the end of the world. And don't even THINK about telling me you've already paid for the plane tickets, 'cos we both know you're loaded."

"Mello, it does not matter whether it would, in fact, be the end of the world. I am leaving in," L glanced at the computer's clock, "One hour, now you've spent this time trying to coerce me into neglecting the single most important case I have ever taken on." L sighed heavily. "Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?"

"Oh, like YOU'RE a beacon of overwhelming goodness," Mello scoffed. "You're a TERRIBLE person. Like Lind L. Tailor? That was an amazing trick, but you still sent him out to get murdered. You're only interested in what's best for you—that's just how humans ARE, and there's no point pretending. You-"

"I," L interrupted, "have spent this morning being told of all my shortcomings by Near. Once per day is quite enough, I think."

"…Near told you off?" L nodded curtly. "What a bastard. So what'd he say?" L rubbed his thumb over his pursed lips.

"I'm not above much. I look for the path of least resistance, even at the expense of others." He reclined a bit, tilting his head to one side and straining his eyes to focus on Mello from the extreme angle. "What you've said. And I can't say I disagree with either of you."

Mello was rather taken aback. L had admitted, readily, that he wasn't actually a good person? Well.

"Then why don't you START putting other people first? Just…just stay here one more day, all right?"

"NO. Look, I-" L stopped short, closing his eyes and sighing again.

"You regret coming home, don't you? You're wishing you'd just stayed in Japan."

"No, Mello, of course not." But L didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Just go, then. Whatever. I don't care." Mello stood up, crossed his arms, and made as if to leave.

"Mello, you OBVIOUSLY care. If you didn't care, you wouldn't be behaving like this."

It stung because Mello knew L was right and hated him for it, but L was used to being right and used to people hating him for it, so he smiled knowingly and gestured at himself, inviting Mello to spend more time with him. There was no way in hell Mello would refuse something like that--he needed to be needed too much.

L had gotten back into his chair, so Mello situated himself between L's legs--where his lap would be if he sat like a normal person--propped his own legs up onto L's knee, and rested his head on L's chest.

It was strange, listening to L's heart. Strange to think of him as real. Mello knew L had flaws. He had feelings, though he never placed them above his own reason. He was capable of making mistakes--he had admitted so himself. But even knowing this, Mello frequently found himself thinking of L as an entity rather than a man. Like he was supposed to. But then, every once in a while, Mello would be forcibly reminded that L was human.

It made the sound of L's heartbeat seem almost surreal.

"L?"

"Mm?" Mello met L's eyes tentatively.

"Do you love me?"

"We have been over this. I love Mello very much."

"Good. 'Cos I love you more than anything." L looked as if he were about to say something, but seemed to think better of it and nodded instead.

"When can you come back?"

"That is a difficult question to answer. I doubt I will have time to come to England again before the Kira case has closed, and I've no idea how long it will take to gather sufficient evidence."

"I could-"

"No, you couldn't," said L flatly. "I'm sure you would be very helpful, but I can't risk your life." L ran a hand back and forth over Mello's leg. Had he been anyone else, Mello might have taken it for a half-hearted attempt at seduction, but he knew better. It was more likely that L's hand was just cold.

"...Mello?" Mello stared at him. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to discuss...this...with anyone," L began slowly, "but I think I should ask you to refrain from-"

"Snitching on you?" Mello smirked at L, who was looking deeply uncomfortable.

"Yes, please."

"Fine. I'll never tell anyone. Except Matt." L's eyes widened.

"You told Matt?"

"Well, yeah. I had to. He's my best mate. And YOU told Watari, so don't act like it's unreasonable." L sighed.

"I didn't need to tell Watari. We haven't actually spoken about it. He's wanted to bring it up a few times, but I've just...I don't know what to tell him. I hate keeping secrets from him, but, at the same time, I don't want him to know."

"Well, he does anyway, so it's fine that I told Matt."

"Just don't tell anyone like, say, Roger. He is an example of a person who does not need to know. Neither do any of your other friends."

"I don't really like anyone else."

"Yes, that's good," said L, clearly not paying attention. He rubbed his thumb over his lips and glanced at a clock.

"I need to leave now, Mello," he said gently, lifting Mello and setting him down on the floor. Mello scrambled to his hands and knees and seized L's leg before he could go anywhere. L stopped moving, so Mello sat on his foot and did his best imitation of a koala.

"Don't go, L! Please!"

"Mello, you are fourteen years old. Kindly stop behaving like an emotionally-unstable two-year-old. Off you get." L shook his leg experimentally, but Mello refused to remove himself. L muttered something in Japanese and began to trudge towards the door, dragging his leg behind him.

"No! No! No!"

"Mello, you are being...you are being IMPOSSIBLE," L snapped. Mello took his face off of L's knee and blinked at him.

"No." Mello was not sure how to convey his sheer desperation. Clearly, L did not understand. He had already TRIED reasoning with himself, but the thought of _no L_ made his chest hurt with sheer longing. "NO," he repeated, hoping L would pick up on the obscene amount of emotion he was trying to project. L shook his head.

"Stop it. I do not want to kick you across the room." Mello slowly slid himself to the ground, staring hopelessly at his own knees. Damn.

L leaned over and stroked Mello's hair a bit.

"I'll be back sometime before you're eighteen, all right? I'd hate to completely miss out on your adolescence."

"You promise?"

"I promise." L retracted his hand. Mello leapt to his feet and flung his arms around L's neck, kissing him with as much force as he could muster. L straightened up a little and held onto Mello's waist, patiently kissing him back, then he put Mello down on his feet.

"Bye, L."

"Goodbye, Mello," said L, smiling sadly before closing the door behind him.

---------------------

_ONE MORE CHAPTER, GUYS!_


	12. Chapter 12

Matt had been knocking as hard as he could on the bathroom door for the better part of the past five minutes.

"MELLO! OPEN THE MOTHERFUCKING DOOR! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"

But Mello was determined to remain firmly in the bath forever. He had filled the often-neglected bathtub with steaming water and bubbles and climbed in, fully clothed, an hour ago, and he had no intention of either leaving or answering Matt.

"MELLO, I HAVE TO PEE!"

Mello prodded at some of the bubbles with a painted toenail. They didn't pop. THEY wouldn't leave him. Not until they fizzled away. Fucking bubbles.

"I AM KICKING DOWN THIS DOOR NOW." Matt began throwing himself at the door. Mello, seeing an opportunity for comedy, unlocked it and ran back to the tub. Matt crashed into the bathroom and tripped over the various trousers and shirts on the floor, stumbling around in a daze until he fell over. Mello giggled sinisterly.

"You're a little shit," said Matt, pointing angrily at Mello, who stuck out his tongue. "What're you even doing in here? And are you wearing clothes in the bath? What the hell?"

"L's gone." Mello tilted his head back to get his hair wet and bubbly. He wasn't going to cry. He _wasn't_ going to cry. Matt grinned, then quickly tried to look sad.

"Aw, man. That...damn."

"Shut up. I know you're jealous and I know you're glad he's gone. So just shut up."

"You know," said Matt, unzipping his pants unconcernedly and flipping up the toilet seat. "I AM kinda glad he's gone. At least you'll be normal again. There was something seriously wrong with you."

Mello wasn't quite sure how to refute this while Matt was peeing, so he pretended to not be able to see or hear Matt until he was done.

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh." Matt wiggled his fingers under some hot water for a few seconds. "You've been MENTAL for the past week. It's been hell for me, watching you act retarded. And you're no fun anymore." Mello sighed.

"Matt, you just don't understand. I love L. I LOVE him. He makes me happy and excited and I can't get enough of him...you just...you COULDN'T understand. It's like I'm-"

"Obsessed? Yeah. Mello, that's not love--that's infatuation. It's nothing MAGICAL that someone dumb like me could never understand. It's just your hormones saying 'Ooh, a warm body!' and your immature mind thinking it's TWU WUV. But you know what? If you really loved him? You wouldn't've HELD him HOSTAGE. People who love each other don't DO that."

"Holding him HOSTAGE? Where the hell do you get off telling me I've been holding him fucking hostage? If he was miserable, he would've-"

"SAID something? Mello, he didn't NEED to! You just haven't been paying attention. Hell, I picked up on it, and I'm just going from what I've heard from you and Ne-" Matt cut himself off, horrified.

"...Near? You SPOKE to NEAR about ME?" Matt winced.

"Yes. Who else was I going to talk to? YOU'VE been in L's room all the goddamn time, and I'm sure as fuck not just gonna lie awake nights, wondering what's going on when Near's been looking into it anyway."

"LOOKING INTO IT? I thought he was just...just frighteningly observant. And why would-"

"I saw him leaving L's room on my way to the infirmary. Like I WASN'T going to ask him? And he told me, 'cos you wouldn't. He TOLD me what L said about being 'reluctant' and he fucking TOLD me that you blackmailed him. BLACKMAIL, Mello! Did it ever cross your mind that maybe, if you had to resort to blackmail to get him to be with you, he wasn't exactly willing?"

"He just--he needed convincing, is all." But Mello suddenly felt less certain of himself. L had told Near those things? Near and Matt were discussing it? And L was gone now and God only knew when he'd be back. Everything was utterly fucked.

"CONVINCING, Mello? You are SO fucked up! Do you just not understand the idea that anyone could NOT be madly in love with you? 'Cos, you know, that's...that's not likely." Matt crossed his arms and jerked his chin to one side, challenging Mello to refute him. It wasn't a very intimidating display, all-in-all, but a cold horror was creeping over Mello. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. When Matt put it like that...it WAS possible that L didn't...in fact, it made SENSE that...

Matt was still positioned like an angry chicken, but Mello couldn't stand there anymore. He slowly turned and walked over to his bed. Matt looked appalled that he was being ignored.

"HEY! You can't just walk away!" Mello continued to ignore him, so he followed and watched as Mello flung himself face-first onto his bed in spite of the fact that he was sopping wet.

"Fix it somehow, okay Matt?" he mumbled. Matt scoffed.

"Hell no. You're the one who got yourself into this. Plus you HIT ME, remember?" He pointed to the black eye he was developing. "And these glasses are my old prescription too, so I can hardly see anything anyway. Jeez, you expect me to help you? You're really-" Matt stopped short when he noticed Mello's back rising and falling and shuddering.

"Aw, Mello," he said, patting Mello's shoulder awkwardly and unhelpfully. "Stop that. It's okay. L probably doesn't hate you all that much."

"No--I REALLY fucked this up." Mello shoved his head farther into the pillow. "There's nothing I can do to fix it. I was AWFUL and now L's gone and Matt--Matt, what if he doesn't come back?" Matt chuckled a little.

"Of COURSE he'll come back. He's L. Do you really think he'll let Kira beat him? He's better than that. And you know what? You can apologize to him when he does come back. In fact," Matt looked off into nothing thoughtfully. "It's probably GOOD that he's gone now. When he comes back, you can show him how much more mature you are and how you'll never do anything inhumanly cruel to him again. And then he'll have no problem forgiving you, right?" Matt tickled Mello's neck and was promptly kicked in the stomach.

"Yeah...yeah. I'll fix it when I see him. He promised, you know." Mello looked up at Matt imploringly. "He said he'd be back. So then...then it'll be all right."

"Good! You see! Now why don't you eat some chocolate and watch me fight the last boss in Sonic Heroes and everything will be absolutely perfect."

By December, Mello was still feeling horribly depressed, but he was trying his best to ignore it. So when the other boys asked him to play some soccer, he decided it would be best to accept their offer. Physical exhaustion did wonders, and soccer proved to be very satisfying because he could hit the other children with the ball in the name of sport.

Mello was walking back inside from one such session when Roger grabbed his arm harshly.

"Mello-"

"Huh?" Mello looked at Roger's hand on his own sleeve and saw that he was tense. Very tense.

"And Near, come to my room."

"Yes." Mello saw Near stand up slowly, taking his puzzle with him. He glanced at Near's face, hoping to see some sign that Near was just as confused as he, but Near was as infuriatingly emotionless as ever.

Roger led them into his office and snapped the door shut behind them before sitting down lightly at his desk, folding his hands in a business-like manner. Near plopped himself down on the floor and resumed clicking pieces into place. The hell? Mello couldn't stand how quiet everyone was being.

"What is it, Roger?"

"L is dead."

/fanfic :)


End file.
